j;
THE
DRAMATIC WORKS
OF
SJtilitam Stjaftajwaw.
WITH
SIXTY ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD,
BY JOHN THOMPSON ;
FROM
DRAWINGS BY STOTHARD, CORBOULD, HARVEY, ETC.
IN TEN VOLUMES.
VOL. X.
ROMEO AND JULIET. HAMLET. OTHELLO.
cmisvtick :
pkinted by c. and c. whittingham.
THE
DRAMATIC WORKS
OF
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.
WITH
NOTES,
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED,
BY SAMUEL WELLER SINGER, F. S. A.
AND
A LIFE OF THE POET,
BY CHARLES SYMMONS, D.D.
VOL. X.
'' 1/ b i
CHARLES WHITTINGHAM, COLLEGE HOUSE. k
CHISWICK
PR
v.iO
ROMEO AND JULIET.
Romeo. In faith, I will : — Let me peruse tbis face;
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris.
Act v. Sc.
FROM THE CHISWICK PRESS.
Borneo anir Juliet
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
The original relater of this story appears to have heen Luigi da
Porto a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel
seems not to have been printed till some years after his death ;
being first published at Venice, in 1535, under the title of ' La
Giulietta : there is, however, a dateless copy by the same printer.
In the dedication to Madonna Lucina Savorgnana, he tells her
that the story was related to him by one of his archers, named
Peregrino, a native of Verona, while serving in Friuli, to be-
guile the solitary road that leads from Gradisca to Udine.
Girolamo della Corte, in his History of Verona, relates it cir-
cumstantially as a true event, occurring in 1303*; but Maffei
does not give him the highest credit as an historian: he carries
his history down to the year 1560, and probably adopted the
novel to grace his book. The earlier annalists of Verona, and
above all Torello Sarayna, who published, in 1542, ' Le His-
torie e Fatti de Veronesi nell Tempi d'il Popolo e Signori
Scaligeri,' are entirely silent upon the subject, though some
other domestic tragedies grace their narrations.
As to the origin of this interesting story Mr. Douce has ob-
served that its material incidents are to be found in the Ephesiacs
of Xenophon of Ephesus, a Greek romance of the middle ages ;
he admits, indeed, that this work was not published nor trans-
lated in the time of Luigi da Porto, but suggests that he might
have seen a copy of the original in manuscript. Mr. Dunlop, in
his History of Fiction, has traced it to the thirty-second novel
of Massuccio Salernitano, whose • Noveliuo,' a collection of tales,
was first printed in 147G. The hero of Massuccio is named
* Captain Breval, in his Travels, tells us that he was shown at
Verona what was called the tomb of these unhappy lovers ; and
that, on a strict inquiry into the histories of Vefona, he found that
Shakspeare had varied very little from the truth, either in the
names, characters, or other circumstances of this play. The fact
seems to be, that the invention of the novelist has been adopted
into the popular history of the city, just as Shakspeare's histo-
rical dramas furnish numbers with their notions of the events to
which they relate.
VOL. X. B
2 ROMEO AND JULIET.
Mariotto di Giannozza, and his catastrophe is different; yet
there are sufficient points of resemblance between the two nar-
ratives. Mr. Boswell observes, that ' we may perhaps carry
the fiction back to a much greater antiquity, and doubts whether,
after all, it is not the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, enlarged and
varied by the luxuriant imagination of the novelist.'
The story is also to be found in the second volume of the
Novels of Bandello (Novel ix.) ; and it is remarkable that he
says it was related to him, when at the baths of Caldera, by the
Captain Alexander Peregrino, a native of Verona; we may
presume the same person from whom Da Porto received it:
unless this appropriation is to be considered supposititious. The
story also exits in Italian verse ; and I had once a glance of a
copy of it in that form, but neglected to note the title or date,
and had not time for a more particular examination. It was
translated from the Italian of Bandello into French, by Pierre
Boisteau, who varies from his original in many particulars ; and,
from the French, Painter gave a translation in the second volume
of his Palace of Pleasure, 1567, which he entitled Rhomeo and
Julietta. From Boisteau's novel the some story was, in 1562,
formed into an English poem, with considerable alterations and
large additions, by Arthur Brooke ; this poem the curious reader
will find reprinted entire in the Variorum editions of Shakspeare :
it was originally printed by Richard Tottel, with the following
title : ' The Tragicall Hystorye of Romeus and Juliet, written
first in Italian, by Bandell; and nowe in English, by Ar. Br.'
Upon this piece Malone has shown, by unequivocal testimony,
that the play was formed: numerous circumstances are intro-
duced from the poem, which the novelist would not have sup-
plied ; and even the identity of expression, which not unfre-
quently occurs, is sufficient to settle the question. Steevens,
without expressly controverting the fact, endeavoured to throw
a doubt upon it by his repeated quotations from the Palace of
Pleasure. In two passages, it is true, he has quoted Painter,
where Brooke is silent ; but very little weight belongs to either
of them. In one there is very little resemblance ; and in the
other the circumstance might be inferred from the poem, though
not exactly specified. The poem of Arthur Brooke was repub-
lished in 1587, with the title thus amplified : — ' Containing a
rare Example of true Constancie : with the subtill Counsells
and Practices of an old Fryer, and their ill Event.'
In the preface to Arthur Brooke's poem there is a very curi-
ous passage, in which he says, • I saw the same argument lately
set foorth on stage with more commendation then I can looke
for (being there much better set forth then I have or can dooe).'
He has not, however, stated in what country this play was repre-
sented : the rude state of our drama, prior to 1562, renders it
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 3
improbable that it was in England. ' Yet (says Mr. Boswell),
I cannot but be of opinion that Romeo andJuIiet may be added
to the list, already numerous, of plays in which our great poet
has had a dramatic precursor, and that some slight remains of
the old play are still to be traced in the earliest quarto.'
• The story has at all times been eminently popular in all parts
of Europe. A Spanish play was formed on it by Lope de Vega,
entitled Los Castelvies y Monteses ; and another in the same
language, by Don Francisco de Roxas, under the name of Los
Vandos de Verona. In Italy, as may well be supposed, it has
not been neglected. The modern productions on this subject
are too numerous to be specified; but as early as 1578 Luigi
Groto produced a drama upon the subject, called Hadriana, of
which an analysis may be found in Mr. Walker's Memoir on
Italian Tragedy. Groto has stated in his prologue that the
story is drawn from the ancient history of Adria, his native
place ;' so that Verona is not the only place that has appropri-
ated this interesting fable.
This has been generally considered one of Shakspeare's ear-
liest plays* ; and Schlegel has eloquently said, that ■ it shines
with the colours of the dawn of morning, but a dawn whose
purple clouds already announce the thunder of a sultry day.'
' Romeo and Juliet (says the same admirable critic) is a picture
of love and its pitiable fate, in a world whose atmosphere is too
rough for this tenderest blossom of human life. Two beings,
created for each other, feel mutual love at first glance; every
consideration disappears before the irresistible influence of liv-
ing in one another; they join themselves secretly, under circum-
stances hostile in the highest degree to their union, relying
merely on the protection of an invisible power. By unfriendly
events following blow upon blow, their heroic constancy is ex-
posed to all manner of trials, till forcibly separated from each
other, by a voluntary death they are united in the grave to meet
again in another world. All this is to be found in the beautiful
story which Shakspeare has not invented, and which, however
* Malone thinks that the foundation of the play might be laid
in 1591, and finished in 1596. Mr. George Chalmers places the
date of its composition in the spring of 1592. And Dr. Drake,
with greater probability, ascribes it to 1593. There are four
early quarto editions in 1597, 1599, 1609, and one without a
date. The first edition is less ample than those which succeed.
Shakspeare appears to have revised the play ; but in the suc-
ceeding impressions no fresh incidents are introduced, the altera-
tions are merely additions to the length of particular speeches
and scenes. The principal variations are pointed out in the
notes.
4 ROMEO AND JULIET.
simply told, will always excite a tender sympathy : but it was
reserved for Shakspeare to unite purity of heart and the glow of
imagination, sweetness and dignity of manners and passionate
violence, in one ideal picture. By the manner in which he has
handled it, it has become a glorious song of praise on that inex-
pressible feeling which ennobles the soul, and gives to it its
highest sublimity, and which elevates even the senses themselves
into soul, and at the same time is a melancholy elegy on its
frailty from its own nature and external circumstances ; at once
the deification and the burial of love. It appears here like a hea-
venly spark that, descending to the earth, is converted into a flash
of lightning, by which mortal creatures are almost in the same
moment set on fire and consumed. Whatever is most intoxicating
in the odour of a southern spring, languishing in the song of the
nightingale, or voluptuous in the first opening of the rose, is to
be found in this poem. But even more rapidly than the earliest
blossoms of youth and beauty decay, it hurries on from the first
timidly-bold declaration of love and modest return, to the most
unlimited passion, to an irrevocable union; then, amidst alter-
nating storms of rapture and despair, to the death of the two
lovers, who still appear enviable as their love survives them,
and as by their death they have obtained a triumph over every
separating power. The sweetest and the bitterest, love and
hatred, festivity and dark forebodings, tender embraces and
sepulchres, the fulness of life and self-annihilation, are all here
brought close to each other; and all these contrasts are so
blended in the harmonious and wonderful work into a unity of
impression, that the echo which the whole leaves behind in the
mind resembles a single but endless sigh.
* The excellent dramatic arrangement, the signification of each
character in its place, the judicious selection of all the circum-
stances even the most minute,' have been pointed out by Schlegel
in a dissertation referred to in a note at the end of the play ; in
which he remarks, that ' there can be nothing more diffuse,
more wearisome, than the rhyming history, which Shakspeare's
genius, " like richest alchymy," has changed to beauty and to
worthiness.' Nothing but the delight of seeing into this won-
derful metamorphosis can compensate for the laborious task of
reading through more than three thousand six and seven-footed
iambics, which, in respect of every thing that amuses, affects,
and enraptures us in this play, are as a mere blank leaf. — Here
all interest is entirely smothered under the coarse, heavy pre-
tensions of an elaborate exposition. How much was to be cleared
away, before life could be breathed into the shapeless mass ! In
many parts what is here given bears the same relation to what
Shakspeare has made out of it, which any common description
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. O
of a thing bears to the thing itself. Thus out of the following
hint—
' A courtier, that eche-where was highly had in pryce,
For he was courteous of his speche and pleasant of devise :
Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde,
Such was emonge the bashfull maydes Mercutio to beholde;'
and the addition that the said Mercutio had from his swathing-
bands constantly had cold hands, — has arisen a splendid character
decked out with the utmost profusion of wit. Not to mention a
number of nicer deviations, we find also some important inci-
dents from the invention; for instance, the meeting and the
combat between Paris and Romeo at Juliet's grave. — Shakspeare
knew how to transform by enchantment letters into spirit, a
workman's daub into a poetical masterpiece.
' Lessing declared Romeo and Juliet to be the only tragedy, that
he knew, which love himself had assisted to compose. I know
not (says Schlegel) how to end more gracefully than with these
simple words, wherein so much lies : — One may call this poem an
harmonious miracle, whose component parts that heavenly power
alone could so melt together. It is at the same time enchant-
ingly sweet and sorrowful, pure and glowing, gentle and impe-
tuous, full of elegiac softness, and tragically overpowering.'
PROLOGUE.
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ;
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows
Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could re-
move,
Is now the two hours' traffick of our stage ;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
vol. x. c
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Escalus, Prince of Verona.
Paris, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince.
Montague, ) Heads of Two Houses at variance with each
Capulet, \ other.
An old Man, Uncle to Capulet.
Romeo, Son to Montague.
Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and Friend to Romeo.
Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and Friend to Romeo.
Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet.
Friar Lawrence, a Franciscan.
Friar John, of the same Order.
Balthazar, Semayit to Romeo.
Gregory, } Sermnts to Capulet'
Abram, Servant to Montague.
An Apothecary.
Three Musicians.
Chorus. Boy, Page to Paris. Peter. An Officer.
Lady Montague, Wife to Montague.
Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet.
Juliet, Daughter to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.
Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Women, Relations to
both Houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Atten-
dants.
SCENE, during the greater Part of the Play, in Verona:
once in tlie Fifth Act, at Mantua.
ROMEO AND JULIET.
ACT I.
SCENE I. A public Place.
Enter Sampson and Gregory, armed with
Swords and Bucklers.
Sampson.
Gregory, o'my word, we'll not carry coals1.
Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.
Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of
the collar.
Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.
Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
1 To carry coals is to put up with insults, to submit to any degra-
dation. Anciently, in great families, the scullions, turnspits, and
carriers of wood and coals were esteemed the very lowest of
menials, the drudges of all the rest. Such attendants upon the
royal household, in progresses, were called the black-guard; and
hence the origin of that term. Thus in May Day, a Comedy by
Geo. Chapman, 1608 : — ' You must swear by no man's beard but
your own; for that may breed a quarrel: above all things, you
must carry no coals.' Again, in the same play : — ' Now my an-
cient being of an un-coal-carrying spirit,' &c. And in Ben
Jonson's Every Man in his Humour : — ' Here comes one that
will carry coals ; ergo will hold my dog.' Again in King Henry V.
Act iii. Sc. 2 : — * At Calais they stole a fireshovel ; I knew by
that piece of service the men would carry coals.'
10 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir.
Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you : I serve as
good a man as you.
Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, sir.
Enter Benvolio, at a distance.
Gre. Say — better ; here comes one of my mas-
ter's kinsmen5.
Sam. Yes, better, sir.
Abr. You lie
Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, remember
thy swashing6 blow. [They fight.
Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you know
not what you do. [Beats down their Swords.
Enter Tybalt.
Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heart-
less hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate
the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee :
Have at thee, coward. [They fight.
Enter several Partisans of both Houses, who join the
Fray ; then enter Citizens, with Clubs.
1 Cit. Clubs7, bills, and partizans! strike! beat
them down !
Down with the Capulets ! down with the Montagues !
5 Gregory is a servant of the Capulets : he must therefore
mean Tybalt, who enters immediately after Benvolio.
6 i. e. .swaggering or dashing.
7 See vol. iii. p. 201, note 4.
SCI. ROMEO AND JULIET. 11
Enter Capulet, in his Gown; and Lady
Capulet.
Cap. What noise is this?— Give me my long
sword 8, ho !
La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!— Why call you
for a sword ?
Cap. My sword, I say !— Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter Montague and Lady Montague.
Mon. Thou villain Capulet, — Hold me not, let
me go.
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince, with Attendants.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, —
Will they not hear! — what ho! you men, you
beasts, —
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd9 weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince. —
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate :
8 See vol.i. p. 214, note 14. The long sword was the weapon
used in active warfare ; a lighter, shorter, and less desperate
weapon was worn for ornament, to which we have other allu-
sions.
1 No sword worn, but one to dance with.'
9 i. e. angry weapons. So in King John: —
1 This inundation of mistemper'd humour,' &c.
12 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away :
You, Capulet, shall go along with me ;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town 10, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants ; Capulet,
La. Cap. Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants.
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ? —
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach :
I drew to part them ; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd ;
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn :
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
La. Mon. O, where is Romeo! — saw you him
to-day ?
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east11,
10 The poet found the name of this place in Brooke's Tragi-
call History of Rome'us and Juliet, 1562. It is there said to
be the castle of the Capulets.
11 The same thought occurs in Spenser's Faerie Queene,
h. ii. c. 10 :—
' Early before the morn with cremosin ray
The windows of bright heaven opened had,
Through which into the world the dawning day
Might looke,' &c.
Again in Summa Totalis, or All in All, 4to„ 1607:—
4 Now heaven's bright eye (awake by Vesper's shrine)
Peepes through the purple windowes of the East.'
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 13
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ;
Where, — underneath the grove of sycamore,
That westward rooteth from the city's side, —
So early walking did I see your son :
Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood :
I, measuring his affections by my own, —
That most are busied when they are most alone, —
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs :
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night :
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ?
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends :
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself — I will not say, how true —
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun 12.
12 The old copy reads : —
' Or dedicate his heauty to the same.'
The emendation is by Theobald: who states, with great plausi-
bility, that sunne might easily be mistaken for same. Malone
14 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as know.
Enter Romeo, af a distance.
Ben. See, where he comes : So please you, step
aside ;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. — Come, madam, let's away.
[Exeunt Montague and Lady.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom. Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was : — What sadness lengthens Romeo's
hours ?
Rom. Not having that, which having makes them
short.
Ben. In love ?
Rom. Out —
Ben. Of love?
Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.
Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will 13 !
observes, that Shakspeare has evidently imitated the Rosamond
of Daniel in the last act of this play, and in this passage may
have remembered the following lines in one of the Sonnets of
the same writer, who was then extremely popular : —
• And whilst thou spread' st into the rising sunne
The fairest floiver that ever saw the light,
Now joy thy time before thy sweet be done.'
These lines add great support to Theobald's emendation. There
are few passages in the poet where so great an improvement of
language is obtained by so slight a deviation from the text of
the old copy.
13 i. e. should blindly and recklessly think he can surmount all
ohstacles to his will.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 15
Where shall we dine ? — O me ! — What fray was here ?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love : —
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate14!
O any thing, of nothing first create !
O heavy lightness ! serious vanity !
Misshapen chaos of well seeming forms !
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold lire, sick health !
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is ! —
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh ?
Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.
Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.
Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. —
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine : this love, that thou hast shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
14 Every ancient sonnetteer characterised Love by contra-
rieties. Watson begins one of his canzonets: —
' Love is a sowre delight, and sugred griefe,
A living death, and ever-dying life,' &c.
Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the same
manner : —
' A fierie frost, a flame that frozen is with ise!
A heavie burden light to beare ! A vertue fraught with
vice!' &c.
Immediately taken from the Romaunt of the Rose : —
' Love it is an hateful pees,
A free aquitaunce without relees, —
An heavie burthen light to beare/ &c.
This kind of antithesis was very much in the taste of the Pro-
vencal and Italian poets. Perhaps it might be hinted by the Ode
of Sappho, preserved by Longinus: Petrarch is full of it: —
' Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra;
E temo, e spero, e ardo, e son un ghiaccio ;
E volo sopral ciel, e giaccio in terra ;
E nulla stringo, e tutto'l mondo abbraccio,' &c.
This sonnet is translated by Sir Thomas Wyatt, under the title of
' Description of the Contrarious Passions in a Lover.' — Farmer.
16 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ;
Being urg'd15, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears :
What is it else ? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz. [Going.
Ben. Soft, I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
Ben. Tell me in sadness16, whom she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben. Groan? why, no;
But sadly tell me who.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will : —
Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill !
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd.
Rom, A right good marksman ! — And she's fair
I love.
Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : she'll not be hit
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit;
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd 17,
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
15 The old copy reads, • Being purg'd a fire,' &c. The emen-
dation I have admitted into the text was suggested by Dr. John-
son. To urge the fire is to kindle or excite it. So in Chapman's
version of the twentv-first Iliad : —
• And as a cauldron, under put with store of fire,
Bavins of sere-wood urging it,' &c.
So Akenside in his Hymn to Cheerfulness: —
1 Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire,
And bid the joyless day retire.'
16 i. e. tell me gravely, in seriousness.
17 ' As this play was written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth,
these speeches of Romeo may be regarded as an oblique com-
pliment to her majesty, who was not liable to be displeased at
hearing her chastity praised after she was suspected to have lost
SC. 1. ROMEO AND JULIET. 17
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold :
O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor,
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store 18.
Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live
chaste ?
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
waste ;
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair :
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.
Ben. Be ruPd by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ;
Examine other beauties.
Rom. 'Tis the way
To call hers, exquisite, in question more19 :
These happy masks20, that kiss fair ladies' brows,
it, or her beauty commended in the sixty-seventh year of her
age, though she never possessed any when young. Her declara-
tion that she would continue unmarried increases the probability
of the present supposition.' — Steevens.
18 The meaning appears to be, as Mason gives it, ' She is poor
only, because she leaves no part of her store behind her, as with
her all beauty will die : —
• For beauty starved with her severity
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.'
19 i. e. to call her exquisite beauty more into my mind, aud
make it more the subject of conversation. Question is used fre-
quently with this sense by Shakspeare.
20 This is probably an allusion to the masks worn by the
female spectators of the play; unless we suppose that these
means no more than the. See vol. ii. p. 44, note 12 : —
' these black masks
Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could displayed.'
VOL. X. D
18 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair;
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost ;
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Street.
Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both ;
And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Cap. By saying o'er what I have said before :
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early
made1.
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
1 The quarto of 1597 reads : —
' And too soon marr'd are those so early married.'
Pnttenham, in his Arte of Poesy, 1589, uses this expression,
which seems to he proverbial, as an instance of a figure which
he calls the Rebound: —
• The maid that soon married is, socn marred is.'
The jingle between marr'd and made is likewise frequent among
the old writers. So Sidney : —
' Oh \ he is marr'd, that is for others made'.'
Spenser introduces it very often in his different poems.
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 19
She is the hopeful lady of my earth2 :
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part3;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light :
Such comfort, as do lusty young men4 feel
2 Fille de terre is the old French phrase for a» heiress. Earth
is likewise put for lands, i.e. landed estate, in other old plays.
But Mason suggests that earth may here mean corporal part, as
in a future passage of this play : —
* Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn hack, dull earth, and find thy centre out.'
So in Shakspeare's 146th Sonnet: —
' Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth.'
3 i. e. in comparison to. See vol. iv. p. 272, note 9.
4 For • lusty young men* Johnson would read 'lusty yeomen.'
Ritson has clearly shown that young men was used for yeomen
in our elder language. And the reader may convince himself
by turning to Spelman's Glossary in the words juniores and yeo-
man. Cotgrave also translates ' Franc-gontier, a good rich
yeoman; substantial yonker.' He also renders ' Vergaland, a
lustie yonker.' As in another part of this play, ' young trees' and
' young tree,' is printed in the old copy for 'yew trees' and yeto
tree,' this may be also a misprint for yeomen. ' You shall feel
from the sight and conversation of these ladies such comfort as
the farmer receives at the coming of spring ;' which is (as Baret
says) ' the lustyest and most busie time to husbandemen.'
Steevens supports the present reading : — ' To tell Paris (says
he) that he should feel the same sort of pleasure in an assembly
of beauties which young folk feel in that season when they are
most gay and amorous, was surely as much as the old man
ought to say.
' ubi subdita flamma medullis,
Vere magis (quia vere calor redit ossibus).'
Virgil. Georg. iii.
Malone adds, from Shakspeare's 99th Sonnet : —
1 When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.'
20 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
When well apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit5 at my house ; hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be :
Which, on more view of many, mine being one6,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me; — Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there [gives a Paper], and
to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.
Serv. Find them out, whose names are written
here7? It is written — that the shoemaker should
meddle with his yard, — and the tailor with his last,
the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his
5 To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess.
6 By a perverse adherence to the first quarto copy of 1597,
which reads, f Such amongst view of many,' &c. this passage has
been made unintelligible. The subsequent quartos and the folio
read, * Which one [on] more,' &c. ; evidently meaning, ' Hear
all, see all, and like her most who has the most merit ; her, which,
after regarding attentively the many, my daughter being one,
may stand unique in merit, though she maybe reckoned nothing,
or held in no estimation. The allusion, as Malone has shown,
is to the old proverbial expression, ' One is no number,' thus
adverted to in Decker's Honest Whore: —
' to fall to one
is to fall to none,
For one no number is.'
And in Shakspeare's 136th Sonnet: —
• Among a number one is recion'd none,
Then in the number let me pass untold.'
It will he unnecessary to inform the reader that which is here
used for who, a substitution frequent in Shakspeare, as in all
the writers of his time. One of the later quartos has corrected
the error of the others, and reads, as in the present text : —
1 Which on more view,' &c.
7 The quarto of 1597 adds, ' And yet I know not who are
written here: I must to th« learned to learn of them: that's as
much as to say, the tailor,' &c.
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 21
nets ; but I am sent to find those persons, whose
names are here writ, and can never find what names
the writing- person hath here writ. I must to the
learned : — In good time.
Enter Benvolio and Romeo.
Ben. Tut, man ! one lire burns out another's burn-
ing,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish :
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that8.
Ben. For what, I pray thee ?
Rom. For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is :
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd, and tormented, and — Good-e'en, good
fellow.
Serv. God gi' good e'en. — I pray, sir, can you
read?
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book :
But, I pray, can you read any thing you see?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language.
Serv. Ye say honestly ; Rest you merry !
Rom. Stay, fellow ; I can read. [Reads.
Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters;
County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The
lady widow of Vitruvio ; Signior Placentio, and his
8 The plantain leaf is a blood- stancher, and was formerly ap-
plied to green wounds. So in Albumazar : —
1 Help, Armellina, help ! I'm fallen i'the cellar:
Bring a fresh plantain-leaf, I've broke my shin.'
D 2
22 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
lovely nieces ; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine ;
Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My
fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and
his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.
A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note], Whither
should they come ?
Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither?
Serv. To supper ; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before.
Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My
master is the great rich Capulet ; and if you be not
of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush
a cup of wine9. Rest you merry. [Exit.
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires !
And these, — who, often drown'd, could never die, —
Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars !
One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself pois'd with herself in either eye :
But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love10 against some other maid
9 This cant expression seems to have been once common : it
often occurs in old plays. We have one still in use of similar
import : — To crack a bottle.
10 Heath says, ' Your lady's love' is the love you bear to your
lady, which, in our language, is commonly used for the lady
herself.' Perhaps we should read, ■ Your lady love.'
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 23
That I will show you, shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well, that now shows best.
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in Capulet's House1.
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.
La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her
forth to me.
Nurse. Now, bv my maidenhead, — at twelve year
old,-
I bade her come. — What, lamb ! what, lady-bird ! —
God forbid! — where's this girl? — what, Juliet!
Enter Juliet.
Jul. How now, who calls ?
Nurse. Your mother.
Jul. Madam, I am here,
What is your will?
La. Cap. This is the matter : — Nurse, give leave
awhile,
We must talk in secret. — Nurse, come back again ;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
And yet, to my teen 2 be it spoken, I have but four, —
She is not fourteen : How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
1 In all the old copies the greater part of this scene was
printed as prose. Capell was the first who exhibited it as verse;
the subsequent editors have followed him, but perhaps errone-
ously.
2 i. e. to my sorrow. This old word is introduced for the
sake of the jingle between teen, and four, and fourteen.
24 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.
Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she, — God rest all Christian souls ! —
Were of an age. — Well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me : But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ;
That shall she, marry ; I remember it well.
Tis since the earthquake now eleven years 3 ;
And she was wean'd, — I never shall forget it, —
Of all the days of the year, upon that day;
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua: —
Nay, I do bear a brain 4 : — but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool !
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven years :
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow :
And then my husband — God be with his soul !
'A was a merry man ; — took up the child :
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
3 Mr. Tyrwhitt thinks that Shakspeare had in view the earth-
quake which had been felt in England in his own time, on the
Gth of April, 1580; and that we may from hence conjecture
that Romeo and Juliet was written in 1591.
4 The nurse means to boast of her retentive faculty. To bear
a brain was to possess much mental capacity either of attention,
ingenuity, or remembrance. Thus in Marston's Dutch Cour-
tezan : —
' My silly husband, alas ! knows nothing of it, 'tis
I that must beare a braine for all.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 25
Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy-dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said — Ay:
To see now, how a jest shall come about !
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?
quoth he :
And, pretty fool, it stinted3, and said — Ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy
peace.
Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but6
laugh,
To think it should leave crying, and say — Ay:
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone ;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, falVst upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said — Ay.
Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to
his grace !
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of: — Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married ?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
6 To stint is to stop. Baret translates * Lachrymas suppri-
mere, to stinte weeping ;' and ' to stinte talke,' by * sermones
restinguere.' So Ben Jonson in Cynthia's Revels : —
1 Stint thy babbling tongue,
Fond Echo.'
Again, in What You Will, by Marston : —
1 Pish ! for shame, st'mt thy idle chat.'
Spenser uses the word frequently.
6 This tautologous speech is not in the first quarto of 1597.
26 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Nurse. An honour ! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger
than you,
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers : by my count,
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief; —
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurse. A man, young lady ! lady, such a man,
As all the world — Why, he's a man of wax 7.
La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower ; in faith, a very flower8.
La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the gen-
tleman ?
This night you shall behold him at our feast;
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ;
Examine every married9 lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
7 i. e. as well made as if he had been modelled in wax. So
in Wily Beguiled : — ' Why, he is a man as one should picture
him in wax.' So Horace uses ' Cerea brachia,' waxen arms, for
arms well shaped. — Od. xiii. 1. 1. Which Dacier explains: —
' Des bras faits au tour comme nous disons d'un bras rond, qu'il
est comme de cire.'
8 After this speech of the Nurse, Lady Capulet, in the old
quarto, says only : —
• Well, Juliet, how like you of Paris' love?'
She answers, • I'll look to like,' &c ; and so concludes the scene,
without the intervention of that stuff to be found in the later
quartos and the folio.
9 Thus the quarto of 1599. The quarto of 1609 and the folio
read, ' several lineaments.' We have, ' The unity and married
calm of states,' in Troilus and Cressida. And in his eighth
Sonnet: —
' If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear.
See vol. vii. p. 338, note 13.
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 27
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes10.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover :
The fish lives in the sea " ; and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
iVwrse.Noless? nay, bigger; women grow by men.
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love ?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move :
But no more deep will I endart12 mine eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served
up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse
cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity.
I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
10 The comments on ancient books were generally printed in
the margin. Horatio says, in Hamlet, ' I knew you must be
edified by the margent,' &c. So in The Rape of Lucrece : —
' But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,
Nor read the subtle shining secrecies
Writ in the glassy margent of such books.'
This speech is full of quibbles. The unbound lover is a quibble
on the binding of a book, and the binding in marriage ; and the
word cover is a quibble on the law phrase for a married woman,
femme couverte.
11 Dr. Farmer explains this, • The fish is not yet caught.' Ma-
sou thinks that we should read, ' The fish lives in the shell; for
the sea cannot be said to be a beautiful cover to a fish, though a
shell may.' The poet may mean nothing more than that those
books are most esteemed by the world where valuable contents
are embellished by as valuable binding.
:- The quarto of 1597 reads, engage mine eye.
28 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
La. Cap. We follow thee. — Juliet, the county
stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
[Exemit.
SCENE IV. A Street.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio1, Benvolio, with Jive
or six Maskers, Torch- Bearers, and Others.
Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our
excuse?
Or shall we on without apology ?
Ben. The date is out of such prolixity 2.
1 Shakspeare appears to have formed this character on the
following slight hint: — ' Another gentleman, called Mercutio,
which was a courtlike gentleman, very well beloved of all men,
and by reason of his pleasant and courteous behaviour was in al
companies wel intertained.' — Painter s Palace of Pleasure, torn. ii.
p. 221.
He is described in similar terms in Arthur Brooke's poem ;
and it is added: —
• A gift he had, which nature gave him in his swathing
band,
That frozen mountain's ice was never half so cold
As were his hands, though ne'er so near the fire he did
them hold.'
Hence the poet makes him little sensible to the passion of love,
and ' a jester at wounds which he never felt.'
2 In King Henry VIII. where the king introduces himself at
the entertainment given by Wolsey, he appears, like Romeo and
his companions, in a mask, and sends a messenger before wit!) an
apology for his intrusion. This was a custom observed by those
who came uninvited, with a desire to conceal themselves, for the
sake of intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of conversation.
Their entry on these occasions was always prefaced by some
speech in praise of the beauty of the ladies, or the generosity of
the entertainer; and to the prolixity of such introductions it is
probable Romeo is made to allude. In Histriomastix, 1610, a
man expresses his wonder that the maskers enter without any
compliment: — 'What, come they in so blunt, without device?'
Of this kind of masquerading there is a specimen in Timon,
where Cupid precedes a troop of ladies with a speech.
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 29
We'll have no cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath 3,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper4;
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance :
But, let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
Rom. Give me a torch 5, — I am not for this am-
bling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Rom. Not I, believe me : you have dancing shoes,
With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
I cannot bound6 a pitch above dull woe :
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love,
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Rom. Is love a tender thing ? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boist'rous ; and it pricks like thorn.
3 The Tartarian bows resemble in their form the old Roman
or Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and bas-relief. Shak-
speare uses the epithet to distinguish it from the English bow,
whose shape is the segment of a circle.
4 See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6, p. 509, note 18.
5 A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of
maskers. To hold a torch was anciently no degrading office.
Queen Elizabeth's gentlemen pensioners attended her to Cam-
bridge, and held torches while a play was acted before her in the
Chapel of King's College on a Sunday evening.
6 Let Milton on this occasion keep Shakspeare in counte-
nance. Par. Lost, book iv. 1. 180 : —
' in contempt
At one slight bound high over-leap'd all bound.'
VOL. X. E
30 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Mer. If love be rough withyou, be rough with love ;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. —
Give me a case to put my visage in :
[Putting on a Mask.
A visor for a visor ! — what care I,
What curious eye doth quote 7 deformities ?
Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.
Ben. Come, knock, and enter : and no sooner in,
But every man betake him to his legs.
Rom. A torch for me : let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes 8 with their heels ;
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, —
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, —
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done9.
Mer. Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's own
word:
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire10
7 To quote is to note, to mark. See Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 1,
note 10.
8 Middleton (the author of The Witch) has borrowed this
thought in his play of Blurt Master Constable, 1602 : —
' bid him, whose heart no sorrow feels,
Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels,
I have too much lead at mine.'
It has been before observed that the apartments of our ancestors
were strewed with rushes, and so it seems was the ancient stage.
' On the very rushes when the Comedy is to dance.' — Decker's
Gull's Hornbook, 1609. Shakspeare does not stand alone in giv-
ing the manners and customs of his own times to all countries and
ages. Marlowe, in his Hero and Leander, describes Hero as
' fearing on the rushes to be flung.'
9 To hold the candle is a common proverbial expression for
being an idle spectator. Among Ray's proverbial sentences we
have, ' A good candle-holder proves a good gamester.' This is
the • grandsire phrase' with which Romeo is proverbed. There
is another old prudential maxim subsequently alluded to, which
advises to (jive over when the game is at the fairest.
10 ' Tut! duns the mouse, the constable's own word:
If thou art dun, tee'// draw thee from the mire.'
Dun is the mouse is a proverbial saying to us of vague signifi-
cation, alluding to the colour of the mouse ; but frequently
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 31
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. — Come, we burn day-light11, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer. I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits 12.
Rom. And we mean well, in 2;oing: to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.
Mer. Why, may one ask ?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.
Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.
Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things
true.
employed with no other intent than that of quibbling; on the
word done. Why it is attributed to a constable we know not.
It occurs in the comedy of Patient Grissel, 1603. So in The
Two Merry Milkmaids, 1620 : — 'Why then, 'tis done, and duns
the mouse, and undone all the courtiers.' To draw dun out of the
mire was a rural pastime, in which dun meant a dun horse, sup-
posed to be stuck in the mire, and sometimes represented by
one of the persons who played, at others by a log of wood.
Mr. Gifford has described the game, at which he remembers
often to have played, in a note to Ben Jonson's Masque of
Christmas, vol. vii. p. 282 : — ' A log of wood is brought into the
midst of the room ; this is dun (the cart horse), and a cry is
raised that he is stuck in the mire. Two of the company ad-
vance, either with or without ropes, to draw him out. After
repeated attempts, they find themselves unable to do it, and call
for more assistance. The game continues till all the company
take part in it, when dun is extricated of course ; and the mer-
riment arises from the awkward and affected efforts of the rus-
tics to lift the log, and sundry arch contrivances to let the ends
of it fall on one another's toes.'
11 This proverbial phrase, which was applied to superfluous
actions in general, occurs again in The Merry Wives of Wind-
sor. See vol. i. p. 208.
12 The quarto of 1597 reads, *■ Three times a day;' and right
wits instead of five wits.
32 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife 13 ; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman u,
Drawn with a team of little atomies15
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams :
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film :
Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat l6,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love :
On courtiers' knees, that dream oncourt'sies straight :
O'er lawyer's fingers, who straight dream on fees :
13 The fairies' midwife does not mean the midwife to the fairies,
but that she was the person among the fairies whose department
it was to deliver the fancies of sleeping men of their dreams,
those children of an idle brain. When we say the king's judges,
we do not mean persons who judge the king, but persons ap-
pointed by him to judge his subjects. — Steevens. Warburton,
with some plausibility, reads, ' the fancy's midwife.'
14 The quarto of 1597 has, ' of a burgomaster.' The citizens
of Shakspeare's time appear to have worn this ornament on the
thumb. So Glapthorne in his comedy of Wit in a Constable: —
' And an alderman, as I may say to you, he has no more wit than
the rest o'the bench; and that lies in his thumb ring.' Shak-
speare compares his fairy to the figure carved on the agate-stone
of a thumb ring. See vol. iii. p. 3G0, note 7 ; and vol. v. p. 176,
note 29.
15 Atomies for atoms.
16 There is a similar fanciful description of Queen Mab's cha-
riot in Drayton's Nymphidia, which was written several years
after this tragedy.
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 33
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted
are 17.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose 18,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit19:
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice :
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades20,
Of healths rive fathom deep : and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night :
And bakes the elf-locks21 in foul sluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
17 This probably alludes to the ' kissing comfits' mentioned by
Falstaff in the last act of the Merry Wives of Windsor.
18 This speech received much alteration after the first edition
in the quarto of 1597 : and Shakspeare has inadvertently intro-
duced the courtier twice. Mr. T}'rwhitt finding ' countries knees'
in the first instance printed in the second folio, would read
counties' (i. e. noblemen's) knees. Steevens remarks that the
whole speech bears a resemblance to a passage of Claudian In
Sextum Consulatum Honorii Augusti Prasfatio.
19 A place in court.
20 The quarto of 1597 reads, ' counter mines.' Spanish blades
were held in high esteem. A sword was called a Toledo, from
the excellence of the Toletan steel.
21 i. e. fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in the
night. It was a common superstition ; and Warburton conjec-
tures that it had its rise from the horrid disease called Plica
polonica.
e2
34 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Making them women of good carriage22.
This, this is she —
Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mer. True, I talk of dreams ;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ;
Which is as thin of substance as the air;
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew- dropping south.
Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our-
selves ;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels; and expire23 the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death :
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail ! — On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum24. [Exeunt.
22 So in Love's Labour's Lost, Act i. Sc. 2: —
' let them be men of great repute and carriage.
' Moth. Sampson, master; he was a man of good carriage,
great carriage ; for he carried the town-gates.'
23 So in The Rape of Lucrece : —
' An expird date cancell'd ere well begun.'
And in Mother Hubbard's Tale : —
' Now whereas time flying with wings swift
Expired had the term,' &c.
24 Here the folio adds : — ' They march about the stage, and
serving men come forth with their napkins.
ROMEO AND JULIET. 35
SCENE V1. A Hall in Capulet's House.
Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.
1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to
take away ? he shift a trencher 2 ! he scrape a
trencher !
2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one
or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a
foul thing.
1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the
court-cupboard3, look to the plate: — good thou,
save me a piece of marchpane 4 ; and, as thou lovest
1 This scene is not in the first copy in the quarto of 1597.
2 To shift a trencher was technical. So in The Miseries of
Enforst Marriage, 1608 : — ' Learne more manners, stand at your
brother's backe, as to shift a trencher neately,' &c. Trenchers
were used in Shakspeare's time and long after by persons of
good fashion and quality. They continued common till a late
period in many public societies, and are now, or were lately,
still retained at Lincoln's Inn.
3 The court cupboard was the ancient sideboard : it was a
cumbrous piece of furniture, with stages or shelves gradually
receding, like stairs, to the top, whereon the plate was displayed
at festivals. They are mentioned in many of our old comedies.
Thus in Chapman's Monsieur D'Olive, 1606 : — * Here shall stand
my court cupboard, with its furniture of plate.' Again in his
May Day, 1611 : — ' Court cupboards planted with flaggons, cans,
cups, beakers,' &c. Two of these ancient pieces of furniture
are still in Stationers' Hall : they are used at public festivals
to display the antique silver vessels of the Company, consisting
of cans, cups, beakers, flaggons, &c. There is a print in a cu-
rious work, entitled Laurea Austriaca, folio, 1627, representing
an entertainment given by King James I. to the Spanish ambas-
sadors, in 1623 ; from which the reader will get a better notion
of the court cupboard than volumes of description would afford
him. It was sometimes also called a cupboard of plate, and a
livery cupboard.
4 Marchpane was a constant article in the desserts of our an-
cestors. It was a sweet cake, composed of filberts, almonds,
pistachoes, pine kernels, and sugar of roses, with a small por-
tion of flour. They were often made in fantastic forms. In
1562 the Stationers' Company paid ' for ix marchpaynes xxvi.s.
viii.oV
36 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and
Nell. — Antony ! and Potpan !
2 Serv. Ay, boy ; ready.
1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked
for, and sought for, in the great chamber.
2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. —
Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer
liver take all. [ They retire behind.
Enter Capulet, fyc. with the Guests and the
Maskers.
Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have their
toes
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you : —
Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all
Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty, she,
I'll swear, hath corns ; Am I come near you now ?
You are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor; and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone :
You are welcome, gentlemen ! — Come, musicians,
play.
A hall! a hall5 ! give room, and foot it, girls.
[Musick plays, and they dance.
More lights, ye knaves; and turn the tables up6,
5 An exclamation commonly used to make room in a crowd
for any particular purpose, as we now say a riiuj ! a riwj ! So
Marston, Sat. iii. : —
♦ A hall! a hall!
Roome for the spheres, the orbs celestial
Will dance Kempe's jigg.'
The passages are numberless that may be cited in illustration of
this phrase.
6 The ancient tables were flat leaves or boards joined by hinges
and placed on tressels ; when they were to be removed they
were therefore turned up. The phrase is sometimes taken up.
Thus in Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, ed. 1825, p. 198 :_< After
that the boards-end was taken up.'
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 37
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. —
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport conies well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin7 Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days :
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask ?
2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.
1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so
much:
'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years ; and then we mask'd.
2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more : his son is elder, sir :
His son is thirty.
lCap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago 8.
Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight ?
Serv. I know not, sir.
Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright !
It seems she9 hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear :
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear !
7 Cousin was a common expression for kinsman. Thus in
Hamlet, the king, his uncle and stepfather, addresses him with —
' But now, my cousin Hamlet and my son.'
8 This speech stands thus in the quarto of 1597: —
1 Will you tell me that ? it cannot be so :
His son was but a ward three years ago ;
Good youths, i' faith ! — Oh, youth's a jolly thing!*
There are many trifling variations in almost every speech of this
play ; but when they are of little consequence I have not encum-
bered the page with them. The last of these three lines, how-
ever, is natural and pleasing. — Steevens.
9 Steevens reads, with the second folio : —
• Her beauty hangs upon,' &c.
Shakspeare has the same thought in his 27th Sonnet : —
• "Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.'
Lyly, in his Eupheus, has • A fair pearl in a Morian's ear/
38 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows,
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now ? forswear it, sight !
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague : —
Fetch me my rapier, boy: — What! dares the slave
Come hither, cover'd with an antick face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ?
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore storm
you so ?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe ;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?
Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He bears him like a portly gentleman ;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well govern'd youth :
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement :
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will; the which if thou respect,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
I'll not endure him.
1 Cap. He shall be endur'd;
What, goodmanboy? — I say, he shall; — Go to; —
Am I the master here, or you? go to.
You'll not endure him ! — God shall mend my soul —
You'll make a mutiny among my guests !
You will set cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man !
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 39
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
I Cap. Go to, go to.
You are a saucy boy : — Is't so, indeed ? —
This trick may chance to scath 10 you ; — I know what.
You must contrary me ! marry, 'tis time —
Well said, my hearts : — You are a princox u; go : —
Be quiet, or — More light, more light, for shame ! —
I'll make you quiet; What! — Cheerly, my hearts.
Tyb. Patience perforce12 with wilful choler meet-
ing*
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw : but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
Rpm. If I profane with my unworthy hand
[To Juliet.
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this —
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this ;
Tor saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too ?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do13;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
10 i.e. do you an injury. The word has still this meaning in
Scotland. See vol. vi. p. 175, note 8.
II A pert forward youth. The word is apparently a corrup-
tion of the Latin prcecox.
12 There is an old adage — ' Patience perforce is a medicine
for a mad dog.' To which this is an allusion.
13 Juliet had said before, that ' palm to palm was holy palmer's
kiss.' She afterwards says, that • palmers have lips that they
must use in prayer.' Romeo replies, That the prayer of his lips was,
that they might do what hands do ; that is, that they might kiss.
40 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers'
sake.
Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I
take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd.
[Kissing heru.
Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd !
Give me my sin again.
Jul. You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with
you.
Rom. What is her mother ?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor !
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal :
I tell you, — he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chinks.
Rom. Is she a Capulet?
0 dear account ! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, begone ; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest.
1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards 15. —
Is it e'en so ? Why, then I thank you all ;
1 thank you, honest gentlemen16; good night: —
14 The poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode of his
own time ; and kissing a lady in a public assembly, we may con-
clude, was not then thought indecorous. In King Henry VIII.
Lord Sands is represented as kissing Anue Boleyn, next whom
he sits at supper.
15 Towards is ready, at hand. A banquet, or rere-supper, as it
was sometimes called, was similar to our dessert. See vol. iii.
p. 438, note 2.
16 Here the quarto of 1597 adds : —
' I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been in bed an hour ago :
Light to my chamber, ho !'
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 41
More torches here ! — Come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah [To 2 Cap.], by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.
Jul. Come hither, nurse : What is yon gentleman ?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
not dance ?
Nurse. I know not.
Jul. Go, ask his name : — if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague ;
The only son of your great enemy.
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate !
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What's this ? what's this ?
Jul. A rhyme I learn 'd even now
Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls icithin, Juliet.
Nurse. Anon, anon : —
Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone.
[Exeunt.
Enter Chorus 17.
Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir ;
That fair18, which love groan'd for, and would die,
With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair.
17 * This chorus is not in the first edition, quarto, 1597. Its
use is not easily discovered ; it conduces nothing to the progress
of the play ; but relates what is already known, or what the next
scene will show; and relates it without adding the improvement
of any moral sentiment.' — Johnson.
18 Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly used as a
VOL. X. F
42 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I.
Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ;
But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks :
Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new-beloved any where :
But passion lends them power, time means to meet,
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. An open Place, adjoining Capulet's
Garden.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
[He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it.
Enter Benvolio, and Mercutio.
Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo !
Mer. He is wise ;
And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard l
wall:
Call, good Mercutio.
substantive, and was synonymous with beauty. See vol. i. p. 228.
The old copies read : —
' That fair for which love groan'd for,' &c.
This reading Malone defends. Steevens treats it as a corrup-
tion ; and says, that fair, in the present instance, is used as a
dissyllable. See vol. iii. p. 148, note 20.
1 See note on Julius Caesar, vol. viii. p. 295.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 43
Mcr. Nay, I'll conjure too. —
Romeo ! humours ! madman ! passion ! lover !
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
Cry but — Ah me ! pronounce " but— love and dove ;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nickname for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim3,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid. —
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not ;
The ape4 is dead, and I must conjure him. —
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
Mer. This cannot anger him : 'twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
2 This is the reading of the quarto of 1597. Those of 1599
and 1609 and the folio read provattnt, an evident corruption.
The folio of 1632 has couply, meaning couple, which has been the
reading of many modern editions. Steevens endeavours to per-
suade himself and his readers that provant may be right, and
mean provide, furnish.
3 All the old copies read, Abraham Cupid. The alteration
was proposed by Mr. Upton. It evidently alludes to the famous
archer Adam Bell. So in Decker's Satiromastix : — * He shoots
his bolt but seldom; but when Adam lets go, he hits.' ' He
shoots at thee too, Adam Bell; and his arrows stick here.' The
ballad alluded to is King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or, as
it is called in some copies, ' The Song of a Beggar and a King.'
It may be seen in the first volume of Percy's Reliques of Ancient
Poetry. The following stanza Sbakspeare had particularly in
view : —
• The blinded boy that shoots so trim,
From heaven down did hie ;
He drew a dart and shot at him,
In place where he did lie.'
4 This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expression
of tenderness, like poor fool, &c.
44 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down ;
That were some spite : my invocation
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees,
To be consorted with the humorous 5 night :
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone6. —
Romeo, good night; — I'll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep :
Come, shall we go ?
Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain
To seek him here, that means not to be found.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Capulet's Garden.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. —
[Juliet appears above, at a Window.
But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks !
5 i. e. the humid, the moist deivy night. Chapman uses the
word in this sense in his translation of Homer, b. ii. edit. 1598 :
' The other gods and knights at arms slept all the
humorous night.'
And Drayton, in the thirteenth Song of his Polyolbion : —
' which late the humorous night
Bespangled had with pearl.'
And in The Baron's Wars, canto i. : —
' The humorous fogs deprive us of his light.'
Shakspeare uses the epithet, vaporous night,' in Measure for
Measure.
6 After this line in the old copies are two lines of ribaldry,
which have justly been degraded to the margin: —
' O Romeo, that she were, ah that she were
An open et cetera, thou a poprin pear.'
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 45
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! —
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she :
Be not her maid1, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. —
It is my lady ; O, it is my love :
O, that she knew she were ! —
She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks :
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head ?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand !
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek !
Jul. Ah me !
Rom. She speaks : —
O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art
As glorious to this sight2, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
1 i. e. be not a votary to the moon, to Diana.
2 The old copies read, ' to this night.' Theobald made the
emendation, which appears to be warranted by the context.
F 2
46 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou
Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name :
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this ?
[Aside.
Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ; —
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name !
What's in a name ? that which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title: — Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
Rom. I take thee at thy word :
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in
night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
Rom. By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am :
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee ;
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance3, yet I know the sound;
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ?
3 We meet with almost the same words as those here attri-
buted to Romeo in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596 : —
' I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,
His eye to drink her sweet tongue's utterance.'1
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 47
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike4.
Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me ? and where-
fore?
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch
these walls ;
For stony limits cannot hold love out :
And what love can do, that dares love attempt,
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let5 to me.
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords 6 ; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.
Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here.
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their
sight ;
And, but7 thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued8, wanting of thy love.
4 i.e. if either thee displease. This was the usual phraseology
of Shakspeare's time. So it likes me well ; for it pleases me well.
5 i. e. no stop, no hinderance. Thus the quarto of 1597. The
subsequent copies read, ' no stop to me.'
6 Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this thought in The
Maid in the Mill: —
' The lady may command, sir ;
She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.'
7 But is here again used in its exceptive sense, without or
unless. See vol. i. p. 17, note 12 ; and vol. viii. p. 493, note 3.
8 i.e. postponed, delayed or deferred to a moie distant period.
So in Act iv. Sc. 1 : —
' I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to the county.'
The whole passage above, according to my view of it, has the
following construction : — ' I have night to screen me ; — yet unless
thou love me, let them find me here. It were better that they
ended my life at once, than to have death delayed, and to want
thy love.'
48 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this
place ?
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire :
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou Us far
As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face ;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke; But farewell compliment9!
Dost thou love me ? I know, thou wilt say — Ay ;
And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs10. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : —
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo : but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ;
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light :
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange11.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware,
9 i. e. farewell attention to forms.
10 This Shakspeare found in Ovid's Art of Love ; perhaps in
Marlowe's translation : —
' For Jove himself sits in the azure skies,
And laughs below at lovers' perjuries.'
With the following beautiful antithesis to the above lines (says
Mr. Douce) every reader of taste will be gratified. It is given
memoriter from some old play, the name of which is forgotten :--
' When lovers swear true faith, the list'ning angels
Stand on the golden battlements of heaven,
And waft their vows to the eternal throne.'
" To he distant, or shy.
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 49
My tuie love's passion : therefore pardon me ;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver 12 all these fruit-tree tops, —
Jul. O , swear not by the moon , the inconstant moon
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?
Jul. Do not swear at all ;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
Rom. If my heart's dear love —
Jul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night :
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden ;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say — It lightens 13. Sweet, good night !
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast !
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ?
12 This image struck Pope : —
' The moonbeam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls.'
\nd in the celebrated simile at the end of the eighth Iliad : —
• And tips with silver every mountain's head.'
13 So in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton, 1604 : —
' lightning ceaselessly to burn,
Swifter than thought from place to place to pass,
And being gone, doth suddenly return
Ere jou could say precisely what it was.'
The same thought occurs in A Midsummer Night's Dream.
All the intermediate lines from ' Sweet, good night F to ' Stay
but a little,' &c were added after the first impression in 1597,
50 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vqw for
mine.
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it :
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it ? for what pur-
pose, love? •
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have :
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
[Nurse calls within.
I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu !
Anon, good nurse! — Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay, but a little, I will come again. [Exit.
Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Re-enter Juliet, above.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night,
indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable u,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
14 In Brooke's Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet she
uses nearly the same expressions : —
' — If your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground,
If wedlock be the end and mark, which your desire hath
found,
Obedience set aside, unto my parents due,
The quarrel eke that long ago between our housholds grew,
Both me and mine I will all whole to you betake.
And following you whereso you go. my father's house forsake :
But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit
You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's dainty
fruit
You are beguil'd, and now your Juliet you beseeks
To cease your siiit, and suffer her to live among her likes.'
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 51
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite ;
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lav*,
And follow thee my lord throughout the world :
Nurse. [Within.] Madam.
Jul. I come anon : — But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee, —
Nurse. [Within.] Madam.
Jul. By and by, I come : —
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.
Rom. So thrive my soul, —
Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit.
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy
light.—
Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their
books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
[Retiring slowly.
Re-enter Juliet, above.
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! — O, for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle 15 back again !
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ;
Else would I tear the cave16 where echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.
Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name ;
15 The tassel, or tiercel (for so it should be spelt), is the male
of the gosshawk, and is said to be so called because it is a tierce
or third less than the female. This is equally true of all birds
of prey. This species of hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed
to it, from the ease with which it was tamed, and its attachment
to man. Tardif, in his book of Falconry, says that the tiercel
has its name from being one of three birds usually found in the
aerie of a falcon, two of which are females, and the third a male ;
hence called tiercelet, or the third. According to the old books
of sport the falcon gentle and tiercel gentle are birds for a prince.
16 This strong expression is more suitably employed by Mil-
ton : —
' A shout that tore hell's concave — .'
52 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest musick to attending ears !
Jul. Romeo !
Rom. My sweet17 !
Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee ?
Rom. At the hour of nine.
Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Rememb'ring how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.
Jul. Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone;
And yet no further than a wanton's bird ;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Rom. I would, I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, so would I;
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet
sorrow,
That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow.
[Exit.
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy
breast ! —
'Would, I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest !
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ;
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.
17 The quarto of 1597 puts the cold, distant, and formal appel-
lation Madam into the mouth of Romeo. The two subsequent
quartos and the folio have ' my niece,' which is a palpable cor-
ruption ; but it is difficult to say what word was intended. ' My
sweet' is the reading of the second folio.
ROMEO AND JULIET. 53
SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar Laurence, with a Basket.
Fri. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning
night1,
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked2 darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's
wheels 3 :
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier cage of ours,
"With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers4,
1 In the folio and the three later quartos these fonr lines are
printed twice over, and given once to Romeo and once to the
Friar.
2 Flecked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or variegated. Lord
Surrey uses the word in his translation of the fourth iEneid : —
' Her quivering cheekes flecked with deadly stain.'
So in the old play of The Four Prentices : —
• We'll fleck our white steeds in your Christian blood.'
3 This is the reading of the second folio. The quarto of 1597
reads : —
' From forth day's path and Titan's flry wheels.'
The quarto of 1599 and the folio have ' burning wheels.'
4 So Drayton, in the eighteenth Song of his Polyolbion, speak-
ing of a hermit : —
' His happy time he spends the works of God to see,
In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow,
Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know.
And in a little niaund, being made of oziers small,
Which serveth him to do full many a thing withal,
He very choicely sorts his simples got abroad.'
Shakspeare has very artificially prepared us for the part Friar
Lawrence is afterwards to sustain. Having thus early discovered
him to be a chemist, we are not surprised when we find him fur-
nishing the draught which produces the catastrophe of the piece.
The passage was, however, suggested by Arthur Brooke's poem.
VOL. X. G
54 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb5;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb :
And from her womb children of clivers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find ;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace6, that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities :
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give ;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse :
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power :
For this, being smelt, with that part 7 cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still 8
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will ;
5 ' Oinniparens, eadem rerum commune sepulchrum.'
Lucretius.
1 The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.' Milton.
* Time's the king of men,
For he's their parent, and he is their grave.' Pericles.
6 Efficacious virtue.
7 i. e. with its odour. Not, as Malone says, 'with the olfacr
tory nerves, the part that smells.'
8 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint : —
' terror and dear modesty
Encamp 'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.'
Our poet has more than once alluded to these opposed foes. So
in Othello :—
' Yea, curse his better angel from his side.'
See also his fort}r-fourth Sonnet. He may have remembered a
passage in the old play of King Arthur, 1587 : —
' Peace hath three foes encamped in our breasts,
Ambition, wrath, and envie.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 55
And, where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. Good morrow, father !
Fri. Benedicite !
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? —
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed :
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth
reign :
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art uprous'd by some distemp'rature ;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right —
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good son : But where hast thou
been then ?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded ; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physick lies9:
9 This apparent false concord occurs in many places, not only
of Shakspeare, but of all old English writers. It is suflicient to
observe that in the Anglo Saxon and very old English the third
person plural of the present tense ends in eth, and often fami-
liarly in es, as might be exemplified from Chaucer and others.
This idiom was not worn out in Shakspeare's time, who must
not therefore be tried by rules which were invented after his
56 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
I bear no hatred, blessed man ; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love
is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet :
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.
Fri. Holy Saint Francis ! what a change is here !
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria ! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline !
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet :
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline ;
time. We have the same grammatical construction in Cvmbe-
line : —
1 His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies.'
And in Venus and Adonis: —
1 She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes
Where lo ! two lamps burnt out in darkness lies.'
Again in a former scene of this play : —
' And bakes the elf locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 57
And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this sentence
then —
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
Fri. Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.
Rom. I pray thee, chide not : she, whom I love now,
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow ;
The other did not so.
Fri. O, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be ;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
Rom. O, let us hence ; I stand on sudden haste 10.
Fri. Wisely, and slow ; they stumble, that run
fast. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Street.
Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.
Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be ? —
Came he not home to-night?
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench,
that Rosaline,
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
10 ' It is incumbent upon me, or it is of importance lo me to
use extreme haste.' So in King Richard III. : —
' it stands me much upon
To stop all hopes,' &c.
G 2
58 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.
Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a
letter.
Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master,
how he dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead !
stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot
thorough the ear with a love-song ; the very pin of
his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt- shaft1 :
And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?
Mer. More than prince of cats2, I can tell you.
O, he is the courageous captain of compliments.
He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, dis-
tance, and proportion ; rests me his minim rest,
one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very
butcher of a silk button3, a duellist, a duellist; a
1 The allusion is to archery. The clout, or white mark at
which the arrows were directed, was fastened by a black pin,
placed in the centre of it. To hit this was the highest ambition
of every marksman. So in No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy
by Middleton, 1657 :—
1 They have shot two arrows without heads,
They cannot stick i'the but yet : hold out, knight,
And I'll cleave the black pin i'the midst of the white.'
So in Marlowe's Tamburlaine : —
* For kings are clouts that every man shoots at,
Our crown the pin that thousands seek to cleave.'
See vol. ii. p. 348, note 10.
2 Tybert, the name given to a cat in the old story book of
Reynard the Fox. So in Decker's Satiromastix : —
' Tho' you were Tybert, prince of long tailed cats.'
Again, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, by Nash: — ' Not
Tibalt prince of cats.'
3 So in The Return from Parnassus : —
' Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth.'
The phrase also occurs in the Fantaisies de Bruscambile, 1612,
p. 1 SI :— * Vn eoop de mousquct sans fourchette clans Ie sixicme
Lou ton.'
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 59
gentleman of the very first house, — of the first and
second cause4: Ah, the immortal passado ! the
punto reverso ! the hay 5 !
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting
fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! — By
Jem, a very good blade ! — a very tall man ! — a very
good whore ! — Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
grandsire6, that we should be thus afflicted with
these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these par-
donnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form,
that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench7? O,
their bons, their bons !
Enter Romeo.
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: — O,
flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified ! — Now is he for
the numbers that Petrarch flowed in : Laura, to his
lady, was but a kitchen wench; — marry, she had a
better love to be-rhyme her : Dido, a dowdy ; Cleo-
4 i. e. a gentleman of the first rank, or highest eminence,
among these duellists ; and one who understands the whole
science of quarrelling, and will tell you of the first cause, and
the second cause for which a man is to fight. The clown, in As
You Like It, talks of the seventh cause in the same sense.
5 All the terms of the fencing school were originally Italian:
the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being first used in Italy.
The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches
the antagonist. Our fencers on the same occasion cry out ha!
6 Humorously apostrophising his ancestors, whose sober times
were unacquainted with the fopperies here complained of.
7 During the ridiculous fashion which prevailed of great
1 boulstered breeches' (See Strutt's Manners and Customs, vol.
iii. p. 86 ; Strype's Annals, vol. i. p. 78, Appendix ; vol. ii. Ap-
pendix, note 17), it is said that it was necessary to cut away
hollow places in the benches of the House of Commons, to make
room for those monstrous protuberances, without which those
who stood on the new form could not sit at ease on the old
bench.
60 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
patra, a gipsy ; Helen and Hero, hildings and har-
lots ; Thisbe, a grey eye or so 8, but not to the pur-
pose.— Signior Romeo, bonjour! there's a French
salutation to your French slop9. You gave us the
counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. Good morrow to you both. What coun-
terfeit did I give you ?
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip 10 : Can you not con-
ceive ?
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may
strain courtesy.
Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case as
yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Rom. Meaning — to court'sy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rotn. Pink for flower.
Mer. Right.
Rom,. Why, then is my pump well flowered11.
Mer. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till
thou hast worn out thy pump ; that, when the single
sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the
wearing, solely singular.
Rom. O single-soled12 jest, solely singular for the
singleness.
8 A grey eye appears to have meant what we now call a blue
eye. He means to admit that Thishe had a tolerable fine eye.
9 The slop was a kind of wide kneed breeches, or rather trow-
sers. See vol. ii. p. 358.
10 See vol. vii. p. 365, note 3.
11 Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The fun-
damental idea is, that Roineo wore pinked pumps, that is punched
with holes in figures. It was the custom to wear ribbons in the
shoes formed in the shape of roses or other flowers. Thus in
The Masque of Gray's Inn, 1614 : — ' Every masker's pump was
fastened with a flower suitable to his cap.'
12 Malone and Steevens have made strange work with their
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. Gl
Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio ; my wits
fail.
Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll
cry a match.
Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase 13,
I have done ; for thou hast more of the wild-goose
in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my
whole five: Was I with you there for the goose?
Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing,
when thou wast not there for the goose.
Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.
Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting 14 ; it is a
most sharp sauce.
Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?
conjectures of the meaning of single-soled. I have shown (vol. v.
p. 270, note 20) that single meant simple, silly. Single soled had
also the same meaning: — ' He is a good sengyll soule, and can do
no harm ; est doli nescius non simplex.' — Hormaris Vuljaria.
So in Hall's Second Satire of his second book : —
* And scorne contempt itselfe that doth excite
Each single soVd squire to set you at so light.'
The ' single soule kings,' in the passage from Holinshed, the
' single sole fidler,' and the 'single soaVd gentlewoman,' in the
other extracts, were all simple persons. It sometimes was
synonymous with THREADBARE, coarse spttn, and this is its mean-
ing here. The worthy Cotgrave explains ' Monsieur de trois au
boisseau et de trois a un epee : a threadbare, coarse-spun, single-
soled gentleman.'
13 One kind of horserace which resembled the flight of wild
geese, was formerly known by this name. Two horses were
started together, and which ever rider could get the lead, the
other rider was obliged to follow him wherever he choose to go.
This explains the pleasantry kept up here. ' My wit fails,' says
Mercutio. Romeo exclaims briskly, ' Switch and spurs, switch
and spurs.' To which Mercutio rejoins, ' Nay, if thy wits run the
wild goose chase,' &c. Burton mentions this sport, Anat. of
Melan. p. 260, edit. 1G32. See also the article Chace in Cham-
bers's Dictionary.
14 The allusion is to an apple of that name.
62 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel 15, that stretches
from an inch narrow to an ell broad !
Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad:
which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide
a broad goose.
Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning
for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou
Romeo ; now art thou what thou art, by art as well
as by nature : for this drivelling love is like a great
natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his
bauble in a hole l6.
Ben. Stop there, stop there.
Mer. Thou desirest me stop in my tale against
the hair 17.
Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale
large.
Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made
it short : for I was come to the whole depth of my
tale : and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument
no longer.
Rom. Here's goodly geer !
Enter Nurse and Peter.
Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail !
Ben. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon?
Nurse. My fan, Peter 18.
15 Soft stretching leather, kid leather. See vol. vii. p. 218,
note 6.
16 See vol. iii. p. 315, note 4.
17 This phrase, which is of French extraction, a contre poil,
occurs again in Troilus and Cressida, vol. vii. p. 324 : — ' Merry
against the hair.'
18 The business of Peter carrying the Nurse's fan, seems
ridiculous to modern manners, but it was formerly the practice.
In The Serving Man's Comfort, 1598, we are informed ' The
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 63
Mer. 'Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face ;
for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den19, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good den ?
Mer. Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy hand
of the dial is now upon the prick"0 of noon.
Nurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you ?
Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made
himself to mar.
Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ; — For him-
self to mar, quoth'a? — Gentlemen, can any of you
tell me where I may find the young Romeo ?
Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo will be
older when you have found him, than he was when
you sought him : I am the youngest of that name,
for 'fault of a worse.
Nurse. You say well.
Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took,
i'faith ; wisely, wisely.
Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence
with you.
Ben. She will indite him to some supper.
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho !
Rom. What hast thou found ?
Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten
pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
mistresse must have one to carry her cloake and hood, another
her fanne' So in Love's Labour's Lost : — ' To see him walk be-
fore a ladv, and to bear her fan.'
l9_ i. e. ' God give you a good even' The first of these con-
tractions is common in our old dramas. So in Brome's Northern
Lass : — ' God you good even, sir.'
20 So in King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4 :—
1 And made an evening at the noontide prick.'
i. e. the point of noon. A prick is a point, a note of distinction
in writing, a stop. So in Bright' s Charactery, or Arte of Short
Writing, 1588 : — ' If the worde end in ed, as I loved, then make
a pricke in the character of the word on the left side.
64 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
An old hare hoar 21,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in lent :
But a hare that is hoar.
Is too much for a score,
When it hoars ere it be spent. —
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to
dinner thither.
Rom. I will follow you.
Mer. Farewell, ancient lady ; farewell, lady, lady,
lady22.
[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.
Nurse. Marry, farewell! — I pray you, sir, what
saucy merchant23 was this, that was so full of his
ropery 24 ?
Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear him-
self talk ; and will speak more in a minute, than he
will stand to in a month.
Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll
take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and
twenty such Jacks ; and if I cannot, I'll find those
that shall. Scurvy knave ! I am none of his flirt-
gills ; I am none of his skains-mates25 : — And thou
21 Hoar, or hoary, is often used for mouldy, as things grow
white from moulding. These lines seem to have been part of an
old song. In the quarto, 1597, we have this stage direction:
• He walks by them [i. e. the Nurse and Peter] and sings.'
22 The burthen of an old song. See Twelfth Night, Act ii.
Sc.3.
23 See vol. vi. p. 41, note 6.
24 Ropery was anciently used in the same sense as roguery is
now. So in The Three Ladies of London, 1584 : —
' Thou art very pleasant, and full of thy roperye.'
See vol. iii.p. 268, note 10.
25 By skains-mates the old lady probably means swaggering
companions. A skain, or skean, was an Irish knife or dagger, a
weapon suitable to the purpose of ruffling fellows. Green, in
his Quip for an Upstart Courtier, describes ' an ill favoured
knave, who wore by his side a skeine, like a brewer's bung
knife.'
St\ IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 65
must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use
me at his pleasure ?
Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if
I had, my weapon should quickly have been out,
I warrant you : I dare draw as soon as another
man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the
law on my side.
Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that
every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave ! -
?Pray you, sir, a word : and as I told you, my young
lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me
say, I will keep to myself : but first let me tell ye,
if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they
say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they
say : for the gentlewoman is young ; and, therefore,
if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an
ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very
weak dealing.
Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mis-
tress. I protest unto thee, —
Nurse. Good heart ! and, i'faith, I will tell her as
much : Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse ? thou dost
not mark me.
Nurse. I will tell her, sir, — that you do protest ;
which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
This afternoon;
And there she shall at friar Laurence' cell
Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Rom. Go to ; I say, you shall.
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be
there.
Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey-
wall:
vol. x. H
66 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Within this hour my man shall be with thee ;
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair26,
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell ! — Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell ! — Commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee ! — Hark
you, sir.
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse ?
Nurse. Is your man secret ? Did you ne'er hear
say-
Two may keep counsel, putting one away ?
Rom. I warrant thee ; my man's as true as steel.
Nurse. Well, sir ; my mistress is the sweetest
lady, — lord, lord! — when 'twas a little prating
thing27, — O, — there's a nobleman in town, one
Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard : but she,
good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as
see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man : but, I'll warrant you,
when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the
varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo be-
gin both with a letter28?
Rom. Ay, nurse ; What of that? both with an It.
26 i. e. like stairs of rope in the tackle of a ship. A stair, for
a flight of stairs, is still the language of Scotland, and was once
common to both kingdoms.
27 So in Arthur Brooke's poem : —
' A pretty babe, quoth she, it was, when it was yotfng,
Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with its tongue.'
28 The Nurse is represented as a prating, silly crealure ; she
says that she will tell Romeo a good joke about his mistress, and
asks him whether rosemary and Romeo do not both begin with
a letter : he says, Yes, an R. She, whom we must suppose
could not read, thought he mocked her, and says, No, sure I
know better, R is the dog's name, your's begins with some other
letter. This is natural enough, and in character. R put her in
mind of that sound which dogs make when thev snarl. Ben
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 67
Nurse. Ah, mocker ! that's the dog's name. II
is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some
other letter : and she hath the prettiest sententious
of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you
good to hear it.
Rom. Commend me to thy lady. [Exit.
Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. — Peter !
Pet. Anon?
Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. Capulet's Garden.
Enter Juliet.
Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the
nurse ;
In half an hour she promis'd to return.
Perchance, she cannot meet him : that's not so. —
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts1,
Jonson, in his English Grammar, says ' R is the dog's letter, and
hirreth in the sound.'
' lrritata canis quod R. R. quam plurima dicat.'
Lucil.
Nashe, in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600, speaking of
dogs, says : —
* They arre and barke at night against the moone.'
And Barclay, in his Ship of Fooles, pleasantly exemplifies it: —
1 This man malicious which troubled is with wrath,
Nought els soundeth but the hoorse letter R,
Though all be well, yet he none aunswere hath,
Save the dogges letter glowming with nar, nar.'
Erasmus, in explaining the adage ' Canina facundia,' says, * R,
litera quae in rixando prima est, canina vocatur.' It is used
more than once in this sense in Rabelais. And in the Alchemist,
Subtle says, in making out Abel Drugger's name, ' And right
anenst him a dog snarling er'
1 The speech is thus continued in the quarto, 1597 : —
* ■ should be thoughts,
And run more swift than hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth.
Oh, now she comes ! Tell me, gentle nurse,
What says my love V
The greatest part of this scene is likewise added since that
68 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over louring hills :
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey ; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours, — yet she is not come.
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as swift in motion as a ball ;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me :
But old folks, many feign as they were dead ;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse and Peter.
O God, she comes! — O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter.
Jul. Now, good sweet nurse, — O lord ! why
look'st thou sad ?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily ;
If good, thou sham'st the musick of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.
Nurse. I am weary, give me leave awhile ; —
Fye, how my bones ache ! What a jaunt have I had !
Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news :
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ; — good, good nurse,
speak.
Nurse. Jesu, what haste ? can you not stay
awhile ?
Do you not see, that I am out of breath ?
edition. Shakspeare, however, seems to have thought one of
the ideas comprised in the foregoing quotation from the earliest
quarto too valuable to be lost. He has, therefore, inserted it in
Romeo's first speech to the Apothecary, in Act v.: —
' As violently as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.'
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 0*9
Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast
breath
To say to me — that thou art out of breath ?
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance :
Let me be satisfied, Is't good or bad ?
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice;
you know not how to choose a man : Romeo ! no,
not he ; though his face be better than any man's,
yet his leg excels all men's ; and for a hand, and a
foot, and a body, — though they be not to be talked
on, yet they are past compare : He is not the
flower of courtesy, — but, I'll warrant him, as gentle
as a lamb. — Go thy ways, wench; serve God. —
What, have you dined at home ?
Jul. No, no : But all this did I know before ;
What says he of our marriage ? what of that ?
Nurse. Lord, how my head akes ! what a head
have I ?
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t'other side, — O, my back, my back ! —
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down !
Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well :
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my
love ?
Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous : — Where is your mother ?
Jul. Where is my mother? — why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest?
Your love says like an honest gentleman, —
Where is your mother ?
Nurse. O, god's lady dear !
H 2
70 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow ;
Is this the poultice for my aking bones ?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Jul. Here's such a coil, — come, what says Romeo ?
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day ?
Jul. I have.
Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife :
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church ; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark :
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner ; hie you to the cell.
Jul. Hie to high fortune ! — honest nurse, farewell.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo l.
Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not !
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight :
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.
Fri. These violent delights have violent ends2,
1 This scene is exhibited in quite another form in the first
q uarto, 1597. But it is hardly worth exhibiting here in its original
state. The reader may see it in the variorum Shakspeare, or in
the play as published by Steevens among the twenty quartos.
2 So in Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece : —
• These violent vanities can never last.'
SC. VI. ROMEO AND JULIET. 71
And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume : The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite :
Therefore, love moderately : long love doth so ;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow3.
Enter Juliet.
Here comes the lady: — O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint4:
A lover may bestride the gossomers5
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich musick's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.
3 ' He that travels too fast is as long before he comes to the
end of his journey as he that travels slow. Precipitation pro-
duces mishap.' — Johnson.
4 This passage originally stood thus : —
' Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed,
See where she comes ! —
So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower ;
Of love and joy, see, see, the sovereign power !'
However the poet might think the alteration of this scene on the
whole to be necessary, I am afraid (says Steevens) in respect of the
passage before us, he has not been very successful. The violent
hyperbole of never wearing out the everlasting flint, appears not
only more reprehensible, but even less beautiful than the lines
as they were originally written, where the lightness of Juliet's
motion is accounted for from the cheerful effects the passion of
love produced in her mind.
5 See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6, note 9.
72 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT II.
Jul. Conceit6, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament :
They are but beggars that can count their worth7;
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
short work ;
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A public Place.
Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page, and
Servants.
Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire ;
The day is hot1, the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl ;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that
when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me
his sword upon the table, and says, God send me
no need of thee ! and, by the operation of the second
6 Conceit here means imagination. Vide Hanilet, Act iii. Sc.
4, note ; and vol. iii. p. 201, note 5.
7 So in Antony and Cleopatra: —
• There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.'
1 It is observed, that, in Italy, almost all assassinations are com-
mitted during the heat of summer. In Sir Thomas Smith's Com-
monwealth of England, 1583, b. ii. c. xix. p. 70, it is said : —
f And commonly every yeere, or each second yeere, in the begin-
ning of sommer or afterwards (for in the warme time the people for
tin' most part he more unruly) even in the calme time of peace,
the prince with his council chooseth out,' &c.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 73
cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is
no need.
Ben. Am I like such a fellow ?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy
mood as any in Italy ; and as soon moved to be
moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
Ben. And what to ?
Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should
have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
Thou ! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath
a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou
hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking
nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast
hazel eyes: What eye, but such an eye, would
spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of
quarrels, as an egg is full of meat ; and yet thy
head hath been beaten as addle as an e^, for
quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for
coughing in the street, because he hath wakened
thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst
thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new
doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his
new shoes with old riband ? and yet thou wilt tutor
me from quarrelling2!
Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art,
any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an
hour and a quarter.
Mer. The fee simple ? O simple 3 !
Enter Tybalt, and Others.
Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.
2 i.e. thou wilt endeavour to restrain me by prudential advice
from quarrelling.
3 This and the foregoing speech have been added since the first
quarto, with some few circumstances in the rest of the scene, as
well as in the ensuing one.
74 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. —
Gentlemen, good den : a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us ? Couple it
with something ; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if
you will give me occasion.
Mer. Could you not take some occasion without
giving ?
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo, —
Mer. Consort4! what, dost thou make us min-
strels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear
nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's
that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort !
Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men :
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart ; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them
gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Enter Romeo.
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir ! here conies
my man.
Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your
livery :
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower ;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him — man.
Tyb. Romeo, the hate 1 bear thee, can afford
No better term than this — Thou art a villain.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
4 To comprehend Mercutio's captious indignation, it should be
remembered that a consort was the old term for a set or company
of musicians. See vol. i. p. 152, note 7.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 1»
To such a greeting: — Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell ; I see, thou know'st me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me ; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injured thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love :
And so, good Capulet, — which name I tender
As dearly as mine own, — be satisfied*
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission !
A la stoccata5 carries it away. [Draus.
Tybalt, you rat catcher, will you walk ?
Tyb. What would'st thou have with me ?
Mer. Good king of cats6, nothing, but one of
your nine lives ; that I mean to make bold withal,
and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest
of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his
pilcher7 by the ears ? make haste, lest mine be about
your ears ere it be out.
Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing,
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.
Rom. Draw, Benvolio :
Beat down their weapons : — Gentlemen, for shame
Forbear this outrage ; — Tybalt — Mercutio —
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
In Verona streets: — hold, Tybalt; — good Mercutio.
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans.
Mer. I am hurt; —
A plague o' both the houses ! — I am sped : —
Is he gone, and hath nothing ?
5 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.
6 Alluding to his name. See Act ii. Sc. 4, note 2.
7 Warburton says that we should read pilche, which signifies a
coat or covering of skin or leather ; meaning the scabbard. A
pilche or leathern coat seems to have been the common dress of
a caiman. The old copy reads — scabbard.
76 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Ben. What, art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 'tis
enough. —
Where is my page? — go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.
Rom. Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide
as a church door ; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve : ask
for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave
man8. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world: —
A plague o'both your houses ! — Zounds, a dog, a
rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death ! a
braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book
of arithmetick ! — Why, the devil, came you between
us ? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint. — A plague o'both your houses !
They have made worm's meat of me :
I have it, and soundly too: — Your houses !
[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.
8 After this the quarto, 1597, continues Mercutio's speech as
follows : —
• A pox o'both your houses! I shall be fairly mounted
upon four men's shoulders for your house of the Montague's and
the Capulets : and then some peasantly rogue, some sexton, some
base slave, shall write my epitaph, that Tybalt came and broke
the prince's laws, and Mercutio was slain for the first and second
cause. Where's the surgeon ?
• Boy. He's come, sir.
1 Mer. Now he'll keep a mumbling in my guts on the other
side. — Come, Benvolio, lend me thy hand : A pox o'both your
houses !'
As for the jest, ' You shall find me a grave man,' it was better
in old language than it is at present ; Lid gate says, in his Elegy
upon Chaucer : —
' My master Chaucer now is grave.'
In Sir Thomas Overbury's description of a Sexton, Characters,
1616, we have it again: — 'At every church-style commonly
there's an ale-house ; where let him be found never so idle-
pated, hee is still a grave drunkard.'
SCI. ROMEO AND JULIET. 77
Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman : — O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel.
Re-enter B en v olio.
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead ;
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd9 the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth
depend10;
This but begins the woe, others must end.
Re-enter Tybalt.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive ! in triumph ! and Mercutio slain !
Away to heaven, respective lenity11,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct12 now! —
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me ; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
9 We never use the verb aspire, at present, without some par-
ticle, as to and after. There are numerous ancient examples of
a similar use of it with that in the text: thus Marlowe, in his
Tamhurlaine : —
' Until our bodies turn to elements,
And both our souls aspire celestial thrones.'
So in Chapman's version of the ninth Iliad: —
' and aspir'd the gods eternal feats.'
10 This day's unhappy destiny hangs over the days yet to come.
There will yet be more mischief.
11 ' Respective lenity' is • considerative gentleness.' See vol.
iii. p. 97, note 1C.
12 Conduct for conductor.
VOL. X. I
73 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Staying for thine to keep him company ;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him
here,
Shalt with him hence.
Rom. This shall determine that.
{They fight i Tybalt falls.
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone !
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain :
Stand not amaz'd : — the prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken : — hence ! — be gone ! — away !
Rom. O ! I am fortune's fool 13 !
Ben. Why dost thou stay ?
{Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens, fyc.
1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kilFd Mercutio ?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he ?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.
1 Cit. Up, sir, go with me ;
I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.
Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet,.
their Wives, and Others.
Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?
Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl :
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
13 In the first quarto, ' O ! I am fortune's slave.' Shakspeare
is very fond of alluding to the mockery of fortune. Thus we have
in Lear : — ' I am the natural fool of fortune.' And in Timon of
Athens: — 'Ye fools of fortune.' In Julius Caesar the expression
is, • He is but fortune's knave.' Hamlet speaks of ' the fools of
nature.' And in Measure for Measure we have ' merely thou
art death's fool.' See Pericles, Act iii. Sc. 2, p. 315, note 7.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. iV
La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin ! — O my brother's
child !
Unhappy sight ! ah me, the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman ! — Prince, as thou art true u,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
O cousin, cousin!
Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray ?
Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did
slay ;
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice 15 the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure : — All this — uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly
bow'd, —
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it : Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold, friends ! friends, part ! and, swifter than his
tongue,
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled :
14 As thou art just and upright. So in King Richard III. : —
' And if King Edward be as true and just.'
15 Nice here means silly, trifling, or wanton. See vol. iii.
p. 393, note 6. So in the last Act :—
1 The letter was not nice, but full of charge
Of dear import.'
The rest of this speech was new written after the appearance of
the first copy, by the poet, as well as a part of what follows in
the same scene.
80 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT 111.
But by and by conies back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning ; for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain ;
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly ;
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague,
Affection makes him false 16 ; he speaks not true :
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life :
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio ;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe ?
Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's
friend ;
His fault concludes but, what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.
Prin. And, for that offence,
Immediately we do exile him hence :
I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the loss of mine :
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses ;
Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none : let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will :
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill17.
[Exeunt.
18 ' The charge of falsehood on Benvolio, though produced at
hazard, is very just. The author, who seems to intend the cha-
racter of Benvolio as good, meant perhaps to show how the hest
minds, in a state of faction and discord, are distorted to criminal
partiality. ' — Johnson.
17 See a maxim of Judge Hales, cited in vol. ii. p. 35, note 8.
ROMEO AND JULIET. iH
SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter Juliet.
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds *,
Towards Phoebus' mansion ; such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately 2. —
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
That run-away's eyes may wink3; and Romeo
The sentiment here enforced is different from that found in the
first edition, 1597. There the Prince concludes his speech with
these words : —
4 Pity shall dwell, and govern with us still ;
Mercy to all but murderers, — pardoning none that kill.''
1 The poet probably remembered Marlowe's King Edward II.
which was performed before 1593 : —
' Gallop apace, bright Phcebus, through the skie,
And duskie night in rusty iron car ;
Between you both, shorten the time, I pray,
That I may see that most desired day.'
There is also a passage in Barnabe Riche's Farewell to the Mili-
tarie Profession, 1583, which bears some resemblance to this.
2 Here ends this speech in the original quarto. The rest of
the scene has likewise received considerable alterations and
additions.
3 A great deal of ingenious criticism has been bestowed in en-
deavouring to ascertain the meaning of this expression. Dr. War-
burton thought that the run-away in question was the sun ; but
Mr. Heath has most completely disproved this opinion. Mr. Stee-
vens considers the passage as extremely elliptical, and regards
the night as the run-aicay ; making Juliet wish that its eyes, the
stars, might retire, to prevent discovery. Mr. Justice Black-
stone can perceive nothing optative in the lines, but simply a
reason for Juliet's wish for a cloudy night; yet, according to
this construction of the passage, the grammar is not very easily
to be discovered. Whoever attentively reads over Juliet's
speech will be inclined to think, or even to be altogether satis-
fied, that the whole tenor of it is optative. With respect to the call-
ing night a run-away, one might surely ask how it can possibly
be so termed in an abstract point of view ? Is it a greater fugi-
tive than the morning, the noon, or the evening? Mr. Steevens
T 9
02 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT 111.
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen ! —
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties 4 : or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. — Come, civil 5 night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods :
Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks6,
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted, simple modesty.
Come, night ! — Come, Romeo ! come, thou day in
night !
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back. —
lays great stress on Shakspeare's having before called the night
a run-away in The Merchant of Venice : —
■ For the close night doth play the run-away.'
But there it was already far advanced, and might therefore with
great propriety be said to play the run-away ; here it was not be-
gun. The same remark will apply to the passage cited from the
Fair Maid of the Exchange. Where then is this run-away to be
found? or can it be Juliet herself? She who had just been
secretly married to the enemy of her parents might with some
propriety be termed a run-away from her duty ; but she had not
abandoned her native pudency. She therefore invokes the night
to veil those rites which she was about to perform, and to bring
her Romeo to her arms in darkness and silence. The lines that
immediately follow may be thought to favour this interpretation ;
and the whole scene may possibly bring to the reader's recollec-
tion an interesting part in the beautiful story of Cupid and
Psyche. — Douce.
4 So in Marlowe's Hero and Leander : —
' dark night is Cupid's day.'
Milton, in his Comus, might have been indebted to Shakspeare : —
' Virtue can see to do what virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk.' .
5 Civil is grave, solemn.
6 These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one
that is not brought to endure company. Bating is fluttering or
beating the wings as striving to fly away.
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 83
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd
night7,
Give me my Romeo : and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish8 sun. —
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it ; and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd : So tedious is this day,
A.S is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
Enter Nurse, with Cords.
And she brings news : and every tongue, that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence. —
Now, nurse, what news ? What hast thou there, the
cords,
That Romeo bade thee fetch ?
Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.
[Throws them down.
Jul. Ah me! what news ! why dost thou wring
thy hands ?
Nurse. Ah well-a-day ! he's dead, he's dead, he's
dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone !~—
Alack the day ! — he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead !
Jul. Can heaven be so envious ?
Nurse. Romeo can,
7 ' Why here walk I, in the black brow of night.'
King John.
8 Milton had this speech in his thoughts when he wrote II
Penseioso : —
' Hide me from day's garish eye.'
Hence also ' Till civil-suited morn appear.' Garish is gaudy,
glittering.
84 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Though heaven cannot: — O Romeo ! Romeo ! —
Who ever would have thought it ? — Romeo !
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me
thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but /9,
And that bare vowel / shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice 10 :
I am not I, if there be such an /;
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, 1.
If he be slain, say — /; or if not, no :
Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe.
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, —
God save the mark u ! — here on his manly breast :
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse ;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood ; I swoonded at the sight.
Jul. O break, my heart ! — poor bankrupt, break
at once!
To prison, eyes ! ne'er look on liberty !
Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt ! honest gentleman !
That ever I should live to see thee dead !
Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughter'd : and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord ? —
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom !
For who is living, if those two are gone?
Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.
9 In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually
written J, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling.
10 See what is said of the basilisk, King Henry VI. Part II.
Act iii. Sc. 2.
11 See Othello, Act i. Sc. 1.
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. Kb
Jul. O God! — did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's
blood ?
Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did.
Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face 1Q !
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave ?
Beautiful tyrant ! fiend angelical !
Dove-feather'd raven ! wolvish-ravening lamb !
Despised substance of divinest show !
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
A damned saint, an honourable villain ! —
O, nature ! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?
Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace !
Nurse. There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men ; all perjur'd,
All forsAvorn, all naught, all dissemblers. —
Ah, where's my man ? give me some aqua vitaz: — '
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo !
Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue,
For such a wish ! he was not born to shame :
Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit ;
12 The same image occurs in Macbeth : —
' look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it.'
The succeeding line has its parallel in King- Johu : —
• Rash, inconsiderate, firy voluntaries,
With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens.'
Again in King Henry VIII. : —
' You have angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts.'
The line ' Did ever dragon,' &c. and the following eight lines,
are not in the quarto, 1597.
So in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, torn. ii. p. 223 : — ' Is it
possible that under such beautie and rare comelinesse, disloyal -
tie and treason may have their siege and lodging?'
UG ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him !
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kilPd
your cousin ?
Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth 13 thy
name,
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? —
But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy14.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain ;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my hus-
band :
All this is comfort: Wherefore weep I then ?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me ; I would forget it fain ;
But, O ! it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds ;
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo — banished :
That — banished, that one word — banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts 15. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there :
Or, — if sour woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, —
Why folio w'd not, when she said — Tybalt's dead,
13 To smooth is to flatter, to speak fair ; it is here metaphori-
cally used for to mitigate or assuage the asperity of censure with
which Romeo's name would be now mentioned. See vol. ix.
p. 275, note 9.
u So in The Tempest :—
' I am a fool
To weep at what I'm glad of.'
15 i. e. is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts.'
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 87
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern ld lamentation might have mov'd ?
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished, — to speak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead : — Romeo is banished, —
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word's death ; no words can that woe sound. —
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse ?
Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse :
Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine
shall be spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords : — Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I ; for Romeo is exil'd :
He made you for a highway to my bed ;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come, cords; come, nurse ; I'll to my wedding bed ;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead !
Nurse. Hie to your chamber : I'll find Romeo
To comfort you : — I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night ;
I'll to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
Jul. O find him ! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo.
Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful
man;
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.
1,5 Modern is trite, common. So in As Yon Like Tt : —
* Full of wise saws, and modern instances.'
80 . ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Rem. Father, what news ? what is the prince's
doom ?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
Fri. Too familiar
Ts my dear son with snch sour company :
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
Rom. What less than dooms-day is the prince's
doom?
Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment, i
Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say — death:
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say — banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished :
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death : — then banishment
Is death misterm'd : calling death — banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy1, and thou seest it not.
Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy : heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives2; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
1 The quarto, 1597, reads ' This is mere mercy,' i. e. absolute
mercy.
2 From this and the foregoing speech of Romeo, Dryden has
borrowed in his beautiful paraphrase of Chaucer's Pal anion and
Arcile : —
' ITeav-m is mat but where Emily abides,
Andwhere site's absent all is hell beside-*
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. VV
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. — More validity3,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo : they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips ;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ;
But Romeo may not ; he is banished :
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly :
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But — banished — to kill me ; banished?
O friar, the damned use that word in hell ;
Howlings attend it : How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word — banishment?
3 Validity is again employed to signify worth, value, in the
first scene of King Lear.
By courtship, courtesy, courtly behaviour is meant. Seevol.iii.
p. 136, note 32. As this is one of the words which have escaped
the industry of Shakspeare's editors, it may be as well to eluci-
date its meaning fully. Bullokar defines ' compliment to be
ceremony, court-ship, fine behaviour.' See also Cotgrave in
Curtisanie and Curialitt ; and Florio in Cortegiania. ' Would I
might never excell a Dutch skipper in courtship, if I did not put
distate into my carriage of purpose, I knew I should not please
them.' — Sir Giles Goosecap, a Comedy. Again, in the same
play : — ' My lord, my want of courtship makes me fear I should
be rude.'
1 Whilst the young lord of Telamon, her husband,
WTas packeted to France, to study courtship,
Under, forsooth, a colour of employment.'
Ford's Fancies Chaste and Noble.
See also Giffbrd's Massinger, vol. ii. p. 505, where the true
meaning of the word has not escaped the acute and able editor.
VOL. X. K
90 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a
word.
Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy4,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Rom. Yet banished ? — Hang up philosophy !
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom ;
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.
Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
Rom. How should they, when that wise men have
no eyes ?
Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate 5.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not
feel:
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear
thy hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
4 So in the poem of Roineus and Juliet, the Friar says : —
• Virtue is always thrall to troubles and annoy,
But wisdom in adversity finds cause of quiet joy.'
See also Lyly's Euphues, 1580 : — ' Thou sajest banishment is
bitter to the freeborne. There be many meates which are sowre
in the mouth and sharp in the maw; but if thou mingle them
with sweet sawces, they yeeld both a pleasant taste and wholesome
nourishment. — I speake this to this end, that though thy exile
seem grievous to thee, yet guiding thyself with the rules of
philosophy it shall be more tolerable.'
5 The same phrase, and with the same meaning, occurs in The
Winter's Tale :—
' can he speak ? hear ?
Know man from man ? dispute Ms own estate ?
i. e. is he able to talk over his own affairs, or the present state
he is in?
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 91
Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thy-
self. [Knocking within.
Rom. Not I ; unless the breath of heart-sick groans,
Mistlike, infold me from the search of eyes.
[Knocking.
Fri. Hark, how they knock ! — Who's there ? —
Romeo, arise ;
riiou wilt be taken : — Stay awhile : stand up ;
[Knocking.
Run to my study: — By and by : — God's will !
What wilfulness is this ? — I come, I come.
[Knocking.
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's
your will ?
Nurse. [ Within.] Let me come in, and you shall
know my errand ;
I come from Lady Juliet.
Fri. Welcome then.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse. O holy friar, O tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo ?
Fri. There on the ground, with his own tears
made drunk.
Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case !
Fri. O woful sympathy !
Piteous predicament!
Nurse. Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering : —
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man :
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
Why should you fall into so deep an O ?
Rom. Nurse!
Nurse. Ah sir ! ah sir ! — Well, death's the end
of all.
92 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet ? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady6 to our cancell'd love?
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and
weeps ;
And now falls on her bed ; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls ; and then on Romeo cries,
And then falls down again.
Rom. As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her ; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman. — O tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge ? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [Drawing his Sword.
Fri. Hold thy desperate hand :
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast7 :
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man !
Or ill beseeming beast, in seeming both !
Thou hast amaz'd me : by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt ? wilt thou slay thyself ?
6 The epithet concealed is to be understood, not of the person,
but of the condition of the lady ; so that the sense is, ' My lady,
whose being so, together with our marriage which made her so,
is concealed from the world.'
7 Shakspeare has here followed the poem : —
' Art thou, quoth he, a man ? thy shape saith, so thou art,
Thy crying and thy iceeping eyes denote a tvomans heart,
For manly reason is quite from oft' thy mind outchased,
And in her stead affections lewd, and fancies highly placed;
So that I stood in doubt, this hour at the least,
If thou a man or woman wert, or else a brutish fiecwf.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 93
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth 8, the heaven, and earth ?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once ; which thou at once would'st lose.
Fye, fye ! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit ;
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man9 :
Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish :
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask 10,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
8 Romeo has not here railed on his hirth, &c. though in his
interview with the Friar, as described in the poem, he is made to
do so. Shakspeare copied the remonstrance of the Friar, with-
out reviewing the former part of this scene. He has in other
places fallen into a similar inaccuracy, by sometimes following
and sometimes deserting his original. The lines from Why
rail'st thou on thy hirth, &c. to thy own defence, are not in the first
copy, they are formed on a passage in the poem.
9 So in King Richard II. Act v. Sc. 3 : —
' And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing son.'
And in Barnabe Riche's Farewell: — ' Knowing that you should
otherwise have used me than you have, you should have digressed
and swarved from your kind.'
10 To understand the force of this allusion, it should be remem-
bered that the ancient English soldiers, using match locks, in-
stead of locks with flints, as at present, were obliged to carry a
lighted match hanging at their belts, very near to the wooden
flask in which they carried their powder. The same allusion
occurs in Humor's Ordinary, an old collection of English Epi-
grams : —
' When she his flask and touch-box set on fire,
And till this hour the burning is not out.'
K 2
94 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence11.
What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead ;
There art thou happy : Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too:
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy :
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back ;
Happiness courts thee in her best array ;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love :
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her ;
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. —
Go before, nurse : commend me to thy lady ;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto :
Romeo is coming12.
Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all the
night,
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is ! —
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
[Exit Nurse.
11 And thou torn to pieces with thine own weapons.
12 Much of this speech has also been added since the first
edition.
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 95
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this !
Fri. Go hence : Good night ! and here stands all
your state 13 ;
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence :
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here :
Give me thy hand ; 'tis late : farewell ; good night.
Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee :
Farewell. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter :
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I; — Well, we were born to die. —
Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night :
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo :
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-
morrow :
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate1 tender
Of my child's love : I think, she will be rul'd
In all respects by me ; nay more, I doubt it not.
13 The whole of your fortune depends on this.
1 Desperate means only bold, adventurous, as if he had said in
the vulgar phrase, I will speak a bold w ord, and venture to pro-
mise you ray daughter. — Johnson.
1 Witness this desperate tender of mine honour.'
Weakest goes to the Wall, 1600.
96 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed ;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next —
But, soft ; What day is this ?
Par. Monday, my lord.
Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is
too soon,
OThursday let it be; — o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl : —
Will you be ready ? do you like this haste ?
We'll keep no great ado ; — a friend, or two : —
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday ?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-
morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone : — O' Thursday be it
then : —
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. —
Farewell, my lord. — Light to my chamber, ho !
Afore me, it is so very late, that we
May call it early by and by : — Good night *.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. Juliet's Chamber1.
Enter Romeo and Juliet.
Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day :
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That piere'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ;
2 The latter part of this scene is a good deal varied from the
first quarto.
1 The stage direction in the first edition is, * Enter Romeo and
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 97
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree2:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east :
Night's candles are burnt out3, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops ;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I :
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer4,
Juliet at a Window.'' In the second quarto, ' Enter Romeo and
Juliet aloft.' They appeared, probably, in the balcony wliich
was erected on the old English stage. See Malone's Account of
the Ancient Theatres, in vol. iii. of Boswell's edition of Shak-
speare.
2 This is not merely a poetical supposition. It is observable
that the nightingale, if undisturbed, sits and sings upon the same
tree for many weeks together. [As almost all birds sing only
during the period of incubation, this may be accounted for; the
male bird sings near where the female is sitting.] W hat
Eustathius has observed relative to a fig-tree mentioned by Ho-
mer, in his twelfth Odyssey, may be applied to the passage
before us: — ' These particularities, which seem of no conse-
quence, have a very good effect in poetry, as they give the rela-
tion an air of truth and probability. For what can induce a
poet to mention such a tree, if the tree were not there in reality.'
— Steevens.
3 Thus Sophocles: —
aKgag vvktoq, r/vix e<nrspoi
AafiirrirripEQ ovk'it 'rjaOov.' Ajax, 288.
4 Compare Sidney's Arcadia, 13th edition, p. 109 : — ' The
moon, then full (not thinking scorn to be a torch-bearer to such
beauty), guided her steps.' And Sir John Davies's Orchestra,
st. vii. of the Sun : —
* When the great torch-bearer of heaven was gone
Downe in a maske unto the ocean's court.'
And Drayton, Eng. Heroic Epist. p. 221, where the moon is de-
scribed with the stars —
* Attending on her as her torch-bearers'
98 ROMEO AND JULIET* ACT III.
And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone 5.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads ;
I have more care to stay, than will to go ; —
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. —
How is't, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away :
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division6;
This doth not so, for she divideth us :
Some say, the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes7;
5 The quarto, 1597, reads : —
' Then stay awhile, thou shalt not go [so] soon.'
The succeeding speech, I think, (says Mr. Boswell) is better in
the same copy : —
' Let me stay here, let me ta'en, and die ;
If thou wilt have it so, I am content.
IH1 say yon gray is not the morning's eye,
It is the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ;
I'll say it is the nightingale that beats
The vaulty heaven so far above our heads,
And not the lark, the messenger of morn :
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so, —
What says my love ? let's talk, 'tis not yet day.'
6 A division, in music, is a variation of melody upon some given
fundamental harmony. See King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii.
Sc. 1 :—
1 Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division to her lute.'
This verse Mr. Stephen Weston observes might serve for a trans-
lation of a line in Horace : —
' grataque foerainis
Imbelli cithara carmina divides.'
7 The toad having very fine eyes and the lark very ugly ones,
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 99
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too !
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up8 to the day.
O, now be gone ; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light? — more dark and dark
our woes.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Madam!
Jul. Nurse ?
Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your cham-
ber :
The day is broke ; be wary, look about.
[Exit Nurse.
Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Rom. Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I'll de-
scend. [Romeo descends.
Jul. Art thou gone so ? my love ! my lord ! my
friend !
was the occasion of a common saying that the toad and the lark
had changed eyes. This tradition was expressed in a rustic
rhyme : —
■ To heav'n I'd fly,
But that the toad beguil'd me of mine eye.'
The sense of the passage is, the lark, they say, has changed eyes
with the toad, and now I would they had changed voices too,
since the lark's song serves but to separate us. The croak of the
toad would have been no indication of the appearance of day, and
consequently no signal for her lover's departure.
8 The hunt's up was originally a tune played to wake sports-
men, and call them together. It was a common burthen of
hunting ballads. Puttenham says that one Gray grew into good
estimation with the Duke of Somerset for making certain merry
ballads, whereof one chiefly was the hunte is up, the hunte is up.
One of these ballads is given by Mr. Douce in his Illustrations
of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 192. According to Cotgrave the Re-
veille, or morning song to a new married woman, was called the
hunt's up. So Drayton, in his Polyolbion : —
* But hunt's up to the morn, the feather'd sylvans sing.'
And in his third Eclogue : —
' Time plays the hunt's up to thy sleepy head.'
100 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
I must hear from thee every day i'the hour,
For in a minute there are many days :
O ! by this count I shall be much in years9,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Rom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not ; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Jul. O God ! I have an ill-divining soul10 :
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb :
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you :
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu !
[Exit Romeo.
Jul. O fortune, fortune ! all men call thee fickle :
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith ? Be fickle, fortune ;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
La. Cap. [ WithinJ] Ho, daughter ! are you up ?
Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother ?
Is she not down so late, or up so early ?
What unaccustom'd cause procures11 her hither?
9 ' Ilia ego, quae fueram te decedente puella,
Protinus ut redeas, facta videbor anus.'
Ovid. Epist. 1.
10 This miserable prescience of futurity I have always re-
garded as a circumstance peculiarly beautiful. The same kind
of warning from the mind, Romeo seems to have been conscious
of on his going to the entertainment at the house of Capulet: —
• My mind misgives me,
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
From this night's revels.' Steevens.
11 Procures for brings.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 101
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Jul. Madam, I am not well.
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
death ?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears ?
An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live ;
Therefore, have done : Some grief shows much of
love :
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the
friend
Which you weep for.
Jul. Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much
for his death,
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?
La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap.That is, because the traitor murderer lives.
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my n
hands.
'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death !
La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear
thou not :
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, —
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, —
12 ' Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind dis-
turbed by the loss of a new lover.' — Johnson.
VOL. X. L
102 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught13,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company :
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him — dead —
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd: —
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it ;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. — O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd, — and cannot come to him, —
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him !
La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such
a man.
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time :
What are they, I beseech your ladyship ?
La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father,
child ;
One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time 14, what day is that ?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday
morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
13 Thus the first quarto. The subsequent quartos and the.
folio less intelligibly read : —
' Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram.'
14 A la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected when the
hearer was not so well pleased as the speaker. — Johnson. Bishop
Lowth uses it in his Letter to Warburton, p. 101 : — ' And may I
not hope then for the honour of your lordship's animadversions?
hi good time : when the candid examiner understands Latin a
little better ; and when your lordship has a competent knowledge
of Hebrew.'
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 103
The county15 Paris, at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste ; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet ; and when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris : — These are news indeed !
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so
yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse.
Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew l6 ;
But for the sunset of my brother's son,
It rains downright. —
15 Counfy, or countie, was the usual term for an earl in Shak-
speare's time. Paris is in this play first styled a young earle. So
Baret, ' a countie or an earle, comes un comte,' and ' a countie or
earldome, comitatus.' Fairfax very frequently uses the word.
See vol. i. p. 319, note 25 ; vol. iii. p. 291, note 3.
16 Thus the quarto 1597. The quarto 1599, and the folio,
read ' the earth doth drizzle dew,' which is philosophically true ;
and so perhaps the poet wrote, for in The Rape of Lucrece he
says : —
' But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set.'
Malone.
Steevens adds : — ' When our author, in A Midsummer Night's
Dream, says, " And when she [i. e. the moon] weeps, weeps
every little flower," he only means that every little flower is
moistened with dew, as if with tears ; and not that the flower
itself drizzles dew. This passage sufficiently explains how the
earth, in the quotation from The Rape of Lucrece, may be said
to weep.' That Shakspeare thought it was the air, and not the
earth, that drizzled dew, is evident from many passages in his
works. So in King John : —
' Before the dew of evening fall.''
104 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
How now, a conduit17, girl? what, still in tears?
Ever more showering ? In one little body
Thou counterfeit' st a bark, a sea, a wind :
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears ; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood ; the winds, thy sighs ;
Who, — raging with thy tears, and they with them, —
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. — How now, wife ?
Have you deliver' d to her our decree ?
La. Cap. Ay, sir ; but she will none, she gives
you thanks.
I would, the fool were married to her grave !
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you,
wife.
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud ? doth she not count her bless'd,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you
have;
Proud can I never be of what I hate ;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cap. How now ! how now, chop-logick 18 ! What
is this ?
Proud, — and, I thankyou, — and, I thank you not; —
And yet not proud; — Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
17 The same image, which was in frequent use with Shak-
speare's cotemporaries, occurs in the poem of Romeus and Juliet
more than once : —
' His sighs are stopt, and stopped in the conduit of his tears.'
l* Capulet, as Steevens observes, uses this as a nickname.
The hyphen is wanting in the old copy. ' Choplogjk is he that
whan his mayster rebuketh his servaunt for his defawtes, he will
give him xx wordes for one, or elles he will bydde the devylles
paternoster in scylence.' — The xxiiii Orders of Knaves, blk. 1.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 105
But settle your line joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green sickness carrion ! out, you baggage !
You tallow face 19 !
La. Cap. Fye, fye ! what, are you mad ?
Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Cap. Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedient
wretch !
I tell thee what, — get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face :
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me :
My fingers itch. — Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd,
That God had sent us but this only child ;
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her :
Out on her, hilding"0!
Nurse. God in heaven bless her! —
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? hold your
tongue,
Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips, go.
Nurse. I speak no treason.
Cap. O, God ye good den !
Nurse. May not one speak ?
Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool !
19 Such was the indelicacy of the age of Shakspeare, that
authors were not contented only to employ these terms of abuse
in their own original performances, but even felt no reluctance
to introduce them in their versions of the most chaste and elegant
of the Greek or Roman poets. Stanyhurst, the translator of
Virgil, in 1582, makes Dido call iEneas hedge-brat, cullion, and
tar-breech, in the course of one speech. Nay, in the Interlude
of The Repentance of Mary Magdalene, 1567, she says to one
of her attendants : —
• Horeson, I beshrewe your heart, are you here V
30 Base woman.
l2
106 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.
La. Cap. You are too hot.
Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad ; Day, night,
late, early,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd : and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they say,) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man, —
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer — Fll not wed, — I cannot love121,
I am too young, — I pray you, pardon me; —
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you :
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me;
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near ; lay hand on heart, advise :
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good :
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away !
Delay this marriage for a month, a week ;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
21 There is a passage in the old play of Wily Beguiled, pointed
out hy Malone, so nearly resembling this, that one poet must
have copied from the other. Wily Beguiled was on the stage
before 1596, being mentioned by Nashe in his Have with You
to Saffron Walden, printed in that year.
' A whining mammet' in the preceding line, confirms the ex-
planation of mammet s given in vol. v. p. 161, note 13.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 107
La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word ;
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit.
Jul. O God! — O nurse! how shall this be pre-
vented ?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven ;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? — comfort me, counsel me. —
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself? —
What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ?
Some comfort, nurse.
Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you ;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman22 !
Romeo's a dishclout to him ; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green23, so quick, so fair an eye,
22 The character of the Nurse exhibits a just picture of those
whose actions have no principles for their foundation. She has
been unfaithful to the trust reposed in her by Capulet, and is
ready to embrace any expedient that otters, to avert the con-
sequences of her first infidelity. The picture is not, however,
an original, the nurse in the poem exhibits the same readi-
ness to accommodate herself to the present conjuncture. Sir
John Vanbrugh, in The Relapse, has copied, in this respect, the
character of his nurse from Shakspeare.
23 Perhaps Chaucer has given to Emetrius, in The Knight's
Tale, eyes of the same colour: —
' His nose was high, his eyin bright citryn.'
i. e. of the hue of an unripe lemon or citron. Again in The Two
Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shakspeare: —
' oh vouchsafe
With that thy rare green eye,' &c.
Arthur Hall (the most ignorant and absurd of all the translators
of Homer) in the fourth Iliad (4to. 1581), calls Minerva —
' The (jreene eide goddesse.'
The early French poets have frequent mention of yeux vers,
108 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT III.
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first : or if it did not,
Your first is dead : or 'twere as good he were,
As living here, and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. From my soul too ;
Or else beshrew them both.
Jul. Amen !
Nurse. To what?
Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous
much.
Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolv'd.
Nurse. Marry, I will ; and this is wisely done.
[Exit.
Jul. Ancient damnation ! O most wicked fiend !
Is it more sin — to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times? — Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. — ■
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit.
which Le Grand has in vain attempted to convert into yeux
vairs, or gray eyes. Flautus alludes to green eyes in his Cur-
culio : —
' Qui hie est homo
Cum collativo ventre atque oculis herbeis.'
And Lord Verulam says, • Great eyes, with a green circle be-
tween the white and the white of the eye signify long life.' —
Hist, of Life and Death, p. 124. Villareal, a Portuguese, has
written a treatise in praise of green eyes, and they are even said
to exist now among his countrymen. See Pinkerton's Geo-
graphy, vol. i. p. 556.
ROMEO AND JULIET. 109
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell
Enter Friar Laurence and Paris.
Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so ;
And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste1.
Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind ;
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love ;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway ;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears ;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Fri. I would, I knew not why it should be slow'd 2.
[Aside.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
1 The meaning of Paris is clear, he does not wish to restrain
Capulet, or to delay his own marriage ; there is nothing of slow-
ness in me, to induce me to slacken or abate his haste : hut the
words the poet has given him import the reverse, and seem
rather to mean I am not backward in restraining his haste. I en-
deavour to retard him as much as I can. The poet has hastily
fallen into similar inadvertencies elsewhere. In the first edition
the line ran : —
' And I am nothing slack to slow his haste.'
2 To slow and to foreslow were anciently in common use as
verbs : —
' will you o'erflow
The fields, thereby my march to slow.'
110 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Enter Juliet.
Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife !
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday
next.
Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri. That's a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father ?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me.
Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him.
Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that ;
For it was bad enough before their spite.
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with
that report.
Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth ;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. —
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
Or shall I come to you at evening mass 3 ?
Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter,
now : —
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion: —
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you :
Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss.
[Exit Paris.
3 Juliet means vespers, there is no such thing as evening mass-
Masses (as Fynes Moryson observes) are only sung in the morn-
ing, and when the priests are fasting.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. Ill
Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me ; Past hope, past cure, past help !
Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits :
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it :
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands ;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seaFd,
Shall be the label to another deed4,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both :
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel ; or, behold
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire5; arbitrating that
Which the commission6 of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
Fri. Hold, daughter ; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hadst the strength of will to slay thyself ;
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake
* The seals of deeds formerly were appended on distinct slips
or labels affixed to the deed. Hence in King Richard II. the
Duke of York discovers a covenant which his son the Duke of
Aumerle had entered into by the depending seal.
5 i. e. shall decide the struggle between me and my distress.
6 Commission may be here used for authority : but it is more
probable that commixtion is the word intended.
112 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it ;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower ;
Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are ; chain me with roaring bears ;
Or shut me nightly7 in a charnel-house,
O'er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless-sculls ;
Or bid me go into a new made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
tremble ;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love 8.
Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris : Wednesday is to-morrow ;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber :
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit ; for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease to beat :
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
7 The quarto 1597 reads—
* Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top,
Where roaring- bears and savage lions roam.'
In the text the 4to of 1599 is followed, except that it has ' or
hide me nightly.'
8 Thus the 4to 1599 and the folio: the 4to 1597 reads, I
think, with more spirit : —
' To keep myself a faithful unstain'd wife
To my dear lord, my dearest Romeo.' Boswell.
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 113
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life ;
Each part depriv'd of supple government,
Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours9,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then (as the manner of our country is)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier 10,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come ; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame ;
If no unconstant toy11, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Jul. Give me, give me ! O tell me not of fear.
9 Instead of the remainder of this scene the 4to 1597 has only
these fonr lines : —
' And when thou art laid in thy kindred's vault,
I'll send in haste to Mantua to thy lord ;
And he shall come and take thee from thy grave.
Jul. Friar, I go ; he sure thou send for my dear Romeo.'
10 The Italian custom here alluded to, of carrying the dead
body to the grave richly dressed, and with the face uncovered
(which is not mentioned by Painter), Shakspeare found particu-
larly described in the The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and
Juliet :—
1 Another use there is, that whosoever dies,
Borne to the church, with open face upon the bier he lies,
In wonted weed attird, not wrapt in winding sheet.'
Thus also Ophelia's song in Hamlet: —
' They bore him hare-faced on the bier.'
11 If no fickle freak, no light caprice, no change of fancy, hinder
the performance. The expressions are from the poem.
VOL. X. M
114 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Fri. Hold ; get you gone, be strong and pros-
perous
In this resolve : I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Jul. Love, give me strength ! and strength shall
help afford.
Farewell, dear father ! [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and
Servant.
Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. —
[Exit Servant.
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks1.
2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir ; for I'll try
if they can lick their ringers 2.
Cap. How canst thou try them so ?
2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot
lick his own fingers : therefore he, that cannot lick
his fingers, goes not with me.
Cap. Go, begone. — [Exit Servant.
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. —
What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence ?
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her :
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
1 Capulet has in a former scene said : —
' We'll keep no great ado : —
we'll have some half a dozen friends.'
The poet has made him alter his mind strangely, or had forgotten
what he had made him say before. (See Act iii. Sc. iv.) Malone
observes that the former scene was of the poet's own invention,
and that he here recollected the poem : —
' he myndes to make for him a costly feast.'
2 This adage is found in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie,
1589:—
' As the olde cocke crowes so doeth the chicke :
A bad cooke that cannot his owne fingers lick.'
SC. II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 115
Enter Juliet.
Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift3 with
merry look.
Cap. How now, my headstrong ? where have you
been gadding?
Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you, and your behests ; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon : — Pardon, I beseech you !
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.
Cap. Send for the county : go tell him of this ;
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell ;
And gave him what becomed 4 love T might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. Why , I am glad on't ; this is well, — stand up :
This is as't should be. — Let me see the county ; .
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. —
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him5.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow ?
La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time
enough.
Cap. Go, nurse, go with her : — we'll to church to-
morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision ;
'Tis now near night.
3 i. e. confession.
4 Becomed for becoming : one participle for another, a frequent
practice with Shakspeare.
5 Thus the folio and the quartos 1599 and 1609 : The oldest
quarto reads perhaps more grammatically: —
1 All our whole city is much bound unto.'
116 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Cap. Tush! I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her ;
I'll not to bed to-night; — let me alone;
I'll play the housewife for this once. — What, ho ! -
They are all forth : Well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow : my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Juliet's Chamber.
Enter Juliet and Nurse.
Jul. Ay, those attires are best : — But, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night;
For I have need of mauy orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state.
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What, are you busy ? do you need my
help?
Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow ;
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you ;
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.
La. Cap. Good night !
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
Jul. Farewell 1 ! — God knows, when we shall
meet again.
1 This speech received considerable additions after the first
copy was published.
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 117
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life :
I'll call them back again to comfort me : —
Nurse! — What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone. —
Come, phial. — «
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county ? —
No, no ; — this shall forbid it : — lie thou there. —
[Laying down a Dagger'.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead ;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear, it is : and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man :
I will not entertain so bad a thought. —
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me ? there's a fearful point !
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes ?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place, —
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd3;
2 This stage direction has been supplied by the modern edi-
tors. The quarto of 1597 reads : — ' Knife, lie thou there.'
• Daggers, or, as they were more commonly called, knives
(says Mr. Giflbrd), were worn at all times by every woman in
England; whether they were so worn in Italy, Shakspeare, I
believe, never inquired, and I cannot tell.' — Works of Ben Jon-
son, vol. v. p. 221.
3 This idea was probably suggested to the poet by his native
M 2
118 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest'ring4 in his shroud ; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort ; —
Alack, alack ! is it not like, that I,
So early waking, — what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad5: —
O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught6,
Environed with all these hideous fears ?
And madly play with my forefathers' joints ?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
O, look ! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point : — Stay, Tybalt, stay ! —
Romeo, I come ! this do I drink to thee.
[She throws herself on the Bed.
SCENE IV. Capulet's Hall.
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.
La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more
spices, nurse.
place. The charnel at Stratford-upon-Avon is a very large one,
and perhaps contains a greater number of bones than are to be
found in any other repository of the same kind in England.
4 To fester is to corrupt. So in King Edward III. 1599 : —
' Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.'
This line also occurs in the ninety-fourth Sonnet of Shakspeare.
The play of Edward III. has been ascribed to him.
5 See vol v. p. 263 ; and vol. vi. p. 204. The mandrake (says
Thomas Newton in his Herbal) has been idly represented as ' a
creature having life, and engendered under the earth of the seed
of some dead person that hath beene convicted and put to death
for some felonie or murther, and that they had the same in such
dampish and funerall places where the saide convicted persons
were buried,' &c. So in Webster's Duchess of Malfy, 1623: —
' I have this night digg'd up a mandrake,
And am grown mad with it.'
6 i. e. distracted.
SC. IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 119
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the
pastry 1. [Exit Nurse.
Enter Capulet.
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir ! the second cock hath
crow'd,
The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock : —
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica :
Spare not for cost.
La. Cap. Go, go, you cot-quean, go,
Get you to bed; 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching2.
Cap. No, not a whit ; What ! I have watch'd ere
now
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.
La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt3 in
your time ;
But I will watch you from such watching now.
[Exit Lady Capulet.
. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood ! — Now,
fellow,
What's there?
Enter Servants, with Spits, Logs, and Baskets.
1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not
what.
Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.] —
Sirrah, fetch drier logs ;
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
1 The room where the pastry was made.
2 This speech, which in the old copies is attributed to the
Nurse, should surely be given to Lady Capulet. The Nurse
would hardly call her lordly master a cot-queen, or reply to a
speech addressed to her mistress. Beside that, she had been
sent for spices, and is shortly after made to re-enter. I have
therefore made the necessary change.
3 The animal called the mouse-hunt is the martin, which,
being of the weasel tribe, prowls about in the night for its prey.
' Cat after kinde, good mouse-hunt,1 is one of Heywood's pro-
verbs.
120 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
2 Sei'v. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit.
Cap. 'Mass, and well said ; A merry whoreson ! ha,
Thou shalt be logger-head. — Good faith, 'tis day:
The county will be here with musick straight.
[Mustek within.
For so he said he would. I hear him near : —
Nurse ! — Wife ! — what ho ; — what, nurse, I say !
Enter Nurse.
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up ;
I'll go and chat with Paris : — Hie, make haste,
Make haste ! the bridegroom he is come already :
Make haste, I say ! [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the Bed.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Mistress! — what, mistress! — Juliet! —
fast, I warrant her, she : —
Why, lamb! why, lady; — fye, you slug-a-bed! —
Why, love, I say ! — madam ! sweet-heart ! — why,
bride !
What, not a word? — you take your pennyworths
now;
Sleep for a week ; for the next night, I warrant,
The county Paris hath set up his rest l,
That you shall rest but little. — God forgive me,
(Marry and amen !) how sound is she asleep !
1 Nashe, in his Terrors of the Night, quibhles in the same
manner on this expression: — 'You that are married and have
wives of your owne, and yet hold too nere friendship with your
neighbours, set up your rests, that the night will be an ill neigh-
bour to your rest, and that you shall have as little peace of
ininde as the rest.' The phrase is explained in vol. iii. p. 2*9.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 121
I needs must wake her : — Madam, madam, madam !
Ay, let the county take you in your bed ;
He'll fright you up, i'faith.— Will it not be?
What, drest ! and in your clothes ! and down again !
I must needs wake you : Lady ! lady ! lady !
Alas ! alas ! — Help ! help ! my lady's dead ! —
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! —
Some aqua-vitae, ho ! — my lord ! my lady !
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What noise is here ?
Nurse. O lamentable day !
La. Cap. What is the matter?
Nurse. Look, look ! O heavy day !
La. Cap. O me, O me ! — my child, my only life,
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee ! —
Help, help ! — call help.
Enter Capulet.
Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth ; her lord is come.
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead ; alack
the day !
La. Cap. Alack the day ! she's dead, she's dead,
she's dead.
Cap. Ha ! let me see her : — Out, alas ! she's cold ;
Her blood is settled; and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated :
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Accursed time ! unfortunate old man !
Nurse. O lamentable day !
La. Cap. O woful time !
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make
me wail,
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak2.
2 Shakspeare has here followed the old poem closely, without
recollecting that he had made Capulet in this scene clamorous
122 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Enter Friar Laurence and Paris, ivith
Musicians.
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church ?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return :
O son, the night before thy wedding-day
Hath death lain with thy bride3: — See, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded ! I will die,
And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's
face4,
And doth it give me such a sight as this ?
La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful
day!
in his grief. In the poem Juliet's mother makes a long speech,
but the old man utters not a word.
* But more than all the rest the father's heart was so
Smit with the heavy news, and so shut up with sudden woe,
That he ne had the power his daughter to beweep,
Ne yet to speak, but long is foro'd his tears and plaints to
keep.'
3 Euripides has sported with this thought in the same man-
ner. Iphig. in Aulid. v. 460: —
' Ti7v6" av TaXaivav 7rapQsvov (tl TrapQevov,
"Adrjg viv, h>g touce, vvfuptvaei rd^a).'
Decker, in his Satiromastix, has the same thought more coarsely
expressed: —
' Dead: she's death's bride; he hath her maidenhead.'
He has the same thought in his Wonderful Year : — ' Death
rudely lay with her, and spoiled her of her maidenhead in spite
of her husband.
4 The quarto of 1597 continues the speech of Paris thus : —
1 And doth it now present such prodigies?
Accurst, unhappy, miserable man,
Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am ;
Born to the world to be a slave in it :
Distrest, remediless, unfortunate.
Oh heavens! Oh nature! wherefore did you make me
To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?
In the text the edition of 1599 is here followed. The Norse's
exclamatory speech is not in the first quarto.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 123
Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage !
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Nurse. O woe ! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day ! most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold !
O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day !
Never was seen so black a day as this :
O woful day, O woful day !
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain,
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown ! —
0 love ! O life ! — not life, but love in death !
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd,
kill'd !—
Uncomfortable time ! why cam'st thou now
To murder murder our solemnity ? —
O child ! O child ! — my soul, and not my child ! —
Dead art thou, dead ! — alack ! my child is dead ;
And, with my child, my joys are buried!
Fri. Peace, ho, for shame ! confusion's cure
lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid :
Your part in her you could not keep from death ;
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was — her promotion ;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanc'd :
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well :
She's not well married, that lives married long ;
124 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church :
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
Cap. All things, that we ordained festival5,
Turn from their office to black funeral ;
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast6 ;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
Fri. Sir, go you in, — and, madam, go with him; I
And go, sir Paris ; — every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave :
The heavens do lour upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris,
and Friar.
1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be
gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up ; put up;
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
[Exit Nurse.
1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be
amended.
Enter Peter7.
Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's
5 Instead of this and the following speeches the first quarto
has only a couplet: —
1 Let it he so; come, woeful sorrow-mates,
Let us together taste this bitter fate.'
The enlarged text, is formed upon the poem.
6 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2.
7 From the quarto of 1599 it appears that the part of Peter
was originally performed Ivy "William Kempe.
SC. V. ROMEO AND JULIET. 125
ease; O, an you will have me live, play — heart's
ease.
1 Mus. Why heart's ease?
Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays
— My heart is full of woe8. O, play me some merry
dump9, to comfort me.
2 Mus. Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then ?
Mus. No.
Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Mus. What will you give us?
Pet. No money, on my faith ; but the gleek 10 :
I will give you the minstrel.
1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature.
Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dag-
ger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets : I'll
re you, I'll fa you ; Do you note me?
1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us.
2 Mus. 'Pray you, put up your dagger, and put
out your wit.
8 This is the burthen of the first stanza of ' A Pleasant New
Ballad of Two Lovers : —
' Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe.'
. 9 A dump was formerly the' received term for a grave or me-
lancholy strain in music, vocal or instrumental. It also signified
a kind of poetical elegy. See vol. i. p. 152. A merry dump is
no doubt a purposed absurdity put into the mouth of Master
Peter. That it was a sad or dismal strain, perhaps sometimes
for the sake of contrast and effect mixed up with livelier airs,
appears from Cavendish's Metrical Visions, p. 17 : —
1 What is now left to helpe me in this case ?
Nothing at all but dompe in the dance,
Among deade men to tryppe on the trace.'
The music of a dump of the sixteenth century is given in a note
on the Two Gentlemen of Verona in the variorum editions of
Shakspeare.
10 A pun is here intended. A gleekman, or yligman, is a min-
strel. To give the gleek meant also to pass a jest upon a person,
to make him appear ridiculous; a gleek being a jest or scoff;
from the Saxon 3I13.
VOL. X. N
126 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT IV.
Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry-
beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dag-
ger : — Answer me like men u :
WJien griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress.
Then musiek with her silver sound l" —
Why, silver sound? why, musiek with her silver
sound ?
What say you, Simon Catling13?
1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet
sound.
Pet. Pretty ! What say you, Hugh Rebeck ?
2 Mus. I say — silver sound, because musicians
sound for silver.
Pet. Pretty too ! — What say you, James Sound-
post?
3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.
Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer:
I will say for you. It is — musiek with her silvei'
sound, because such fellows as you have seldom
gold for sounding : —
Then musiek with her silver sound,
With speedy help doth lend redress.
[Exit, singing.
1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same ?
2 Mus. Hang him, Jack ! Come, we'll in here ;
tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.
11 • Dr. Percy thinks that the questions of Peter are designed
as a ridicule on the forced and unnatural explanations given by
us painful editors of ancient authors.' — Steevens.
12 This is part of a song by Richard Edwards, to be found in
the Paradice of Dainty Devices, fol. 31, b. Another copy of
this song is to be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry.
13 This worthy takes his name from a small lutestring made
of catgut. His companion the fiddler from an instrument of the
same name mentioned by many of our old writers, and recorded
by Milton as an instrument of mirth: —
* When the merry bells ring round,
And the joyful rebecks sound.'
ROMEO AND JULIET. 127
ACT V.
SCENE I. Mantua. A Street.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep1,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ;
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts2.
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to
think) ;
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips3,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.
Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy !
1 Thus the first quarto. The folio reads : —
1 If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep.'
The sense appears to he, If I may repose any confidence in the
flattering visions of the night. Otvvay reads : —
' If I may trust the flattery of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.'
2 ' These three last lines are very gay and pleasing. But
•why does Shakspeare give Romeo this involuntary cheerfulness
just before the extremity of unhappiness ? Perhaps to show the
vanity of trusting to those uncertain and casual exaltations or
depressions, which many consider as certain foretokens of good
and evil.' — Johnson.
The poet has explained this passage a little further on: —
' How oft, when men are at the point of death,
Have they been merry ? which their keepers call
A lightning before death.'
3 Shakspeare seems to have remembered Marlowe's Hero
and Leander, a poem that he has quoted in As You Like It: —
1 By this sad Hero
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted;
He kiss'd her, and breath'd -life into her lips,' &c.
123 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
Enter Balthasar.
News from Verona! — How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar ?
How doth my lady ? Is my father well ?
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.
Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument4,
And her immortal part with angels lives ;
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you ;
0 pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! —
Thou know'st my lodging : get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses ; I will hence to-night.
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus :
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.
Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd ;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do :
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Bal. No, my good lord.
Rom. No matter : get thee gone,
And hire those horses ; I'll be with thee straight.
[Exit Balthasar.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means: — O, mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men !
1 do remember an apothecary, —
And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks,
4 Shakspeare found Capel and Capulet used indiscriminately
in the poem which was the groundwork of this tragedy.
SC. I. RO?vlEO AND JULIET. 120
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones 5 :
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stufFd, and other skins6
Of ill shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said —
And if a man did need a poison now,
"Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house ;
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut, —
What, ho ! apothecary !
Enter Apothecary.
Ap. Who calls so loud ?
Rom. Come hither, man. — I see, that thou art poor ;
Hold, there is forty ducats ; let me have
5 See Sackville's description of misery in the Induction to the
Mirror of Magistrates : —
1 His face was leane and some deal pinde away,
And eke his hands consumed to the bones.'
6 We learn from Nashe's Have with You to Saffron Walden,
1596, that a stuffed aligator then made, part of the furniture of
an apothecary's shop:— r* He made an anatomie of a rat, and
after hanged her over his head, instead of an apothecary's croco-
dile or dried alligator.' Steevens was informed that formerly
when an apothecary first engaged with his druggist, he was
gratuitously furnished hy him with these articles of show, which
were then imported for that use only ; and had met with the
alligator, tortoise, &c. hanging up in the shop of an ancient
apothecary at Limehouse, as well as in places more remote from
the metropolis. See Hogarth's Marriage a la Mode, plate iii.
It seems that the apothecaries dismissed their alligators, &c.
sometime before the physicians parted with their amber-headed
canes and solemn periwigs.
N 2
130 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead ;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
Is death, to any he that utters them.
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes7,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law :
The world affords no law to make thee rich ;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight8.
7 The quarto of 1597 reads : —
' Upon thy hack hangs ragged miserie,
And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.'
The quartos of 1599 and 1609: —
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes.'
Otway exhibited the line as it is in the text in his Caius Marius,
and the alteration is so slight that it well merits adoption.
Ritson has justly observed that need and oppression could not
properly be said to starve in the eyes of the Apothecary, though
they may be supposed to be manifest in his haggard looks. To
avoid the grammatical error Pope reads : —
' Need and oppression stare within thy eyes.'
The later quartos and the folio read : —
' Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back.'
8 Steevens thinks that Shakspeare may have remembered the
following passage in The Pardonere's Tale of Chaucer, v. 12794 :
• The Potecary answered, thou shalt have
A thing, as wisly God my soule save,
In all this world thir n'is no creature,
That ete or dronke hath of this confecture,
SC. I. ROMEO AND JULIET. 131
Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's
souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell :
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. —
Come, cordial, and not poison ; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar John.
John. Holy Franciscan friar ! brother, ho !
Enter Friar Laurence.
Lau. This same should be the voice of Friar
John. —
Welcome from Mantua ; What says Romeo ?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me1,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Not but the mountance of a come of whete,
That he ne shall his lif anon forlete ;
Ye, sterve he shall, and that in lesse while
Than thou wolt gon a pas not but a mile:
This poison is so strong and violent.'
1 Each friar had always a companion assigned him by the
superior, when he asked leave to go out. In tbe Visitatio Nota-
bilis de Seleborne, a curious record printed in White's Natural
History of Selborne, Wykeham enjoins the canons not to go
abroad without leave from the prior, who is ordered on such
occasions to assign the brother a companion, ' ne suspicio sinis-
tra velscandalum oriatur.' There is a similar regulation in the
132 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth ;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo ?
John. I could not send it, — here it is again, —
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were tbey of infection.
Lau. Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice2, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone ;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake 3 ;
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents:
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come :
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb !
[Exit.
statutes of Trinity College, Cambridge. So in The Tragicuil
Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562 : —
• Apace our friar John to Mantua him hies,
And, for because in Italy it is a wonted guise
That friars in the town should seldom walk alone,
But of their convent aye should he accompanied icith one
Of his profession, straight a house he findeth out,
In mind to take some friar with him to walk the town
about.'
Shakspeare, having occasion for Friar John, has departed from
the poem, and supposed the pestilence to rage at Verona instead
of Mantua.
2 i. e. was not wantonly written on a trivial or idle matter, but
on a subject of importance. See Act iii. Sc. 1, note 1.
3 Instead of this line and the concluding part of the speech,
the first quarto reads only : —
' Lest that the lady should before I come
Be wak'd from sleep, I will hye
To free her from that tomb of miserie.'
ROMEO AND JULIET. 133
SCENE III.
A Church Yard: in it a Monument belonging to
the Capulets.
Enter Paris, and his Page, bearing Flowers and a
Torch.
Par. Give me thy torch, boy : Hence, and stand
aloof; —
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground ;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves),
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard ; yet I will adventure.
[Retires.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy
bridal bed:
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity ;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain *,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb !
[The Soy whistles.
1 The folio has these lines : —
' Sweet flow'r, with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew;
O woe ! thy canopy is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water I will nightly dew ;
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave and weep.'
In the text the seven lines are printed as they appear in the
quarto of 1597.
134 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
The boy gives warning, something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites ?
What, with a torch ! — muffle me, night, a while2.
[Retires,
Enter Romeo and Balthasar, with a Torch,
Mattock, 6fc.
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching
iron.
Hold, take this letter ; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light: Upon thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face :
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring; a ring that I must use
In dear 3 employment : therefore hence, be gone : —
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs :
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
2 Thus inTJrayton's Polyolbion: —
' But suddenly the clouds which on the winds do fly
Do muffle him again.'
The word was not deemed unpoetical by Milton ; the Elder
Brother in Comus uses it : —
' Unmuffle, ye faint stars,' &c.
A muffler was a part of female dress, described in vol. i. p. 201.
3 That is, in action of importance. The sense of the word dear
has been explained in vol. i. p. 382. So Ben Jonson, in Catiline,
Acti.:--
' Put your known talents on so dear a business.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 135
Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. — Take
thou that :
Live, and be prosperous ; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout ;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou detestable4 maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
[Breaking open the Door of the Monument.
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food !
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin; — with which grief,
It is supposed the fair creature died, —
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him, —
[Advances.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague;
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death ?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee :
Obey, and go with me ; for thou must die.
Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I
hither. —
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man ;
Fly hence and leave me; — think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee. — I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury : — O, be gone !
By heaven, I love thee better than myself:
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, begone ; — live, and hereafter say —
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
4 Detestable was formerly accented on the first syllable, as in
the present instance. So Spenser, Faerie Queene, b. i. can. i.
St. 26 :—
' That detestable sight him much amaz'd.'
136 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations5,
And do attach thee as a felon here,
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
boy. [They fight.
Page. O lord ! they fight : I will go call the watch.
[Exit Page.
Par. O, I am slain ! [Falls.] — If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.
Rom. In faith, I will: — Let me peruse this face;
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris :
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think,
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet :
Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so? — O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book !
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave, —
A grave? O, no; a lantern6, slaughter'd youth,
5 I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. depart. So
Constance, in King John, says : —
'No, I defy all counsel, all redress.'
6 A lantern may not, in this instance, signify an enclosure for
a lighted candle, but a louvre, or what in ancient records is
styled lanternium, i. e. a spacious round or octagonal turret full
of windows, by means of which cathedrals and sometimes halls
are illuminated. See the beautiful lantern at Ely Minster.
The same word, with the same sense, occurs in Churchyard's
Siege of Edinbrough Castle: —
' This lofty seat and lantern of that land
Like lodestarre stode, and lokte o'er ev'ry streete.'
And in Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. Hist. b. xxxv. : —
* Hence came the louvers and lanternes reared over the roofes ol
temples.'
A presence is a public room, which is at times the presence
chamber of a sovereign. This thought, extravagant as it is, it
borrowed by Middleton in his Blurt Master Constable : —
• The darkest dungeon which spite can devise
To throw this carcase in, her glorious eyes
Can make as lightsome as the fairest chamber
In Paris Louvre.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 137
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.
[Laying Paris in the Monument.
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry ? which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I7
Call this a lightning? — O, my love ! my wife !
Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty8:
Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. —
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy ?
Forgive me, cousin ! — Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair ? Shall I believe
7 The first quarto reads, ' But how,' &c. This idea very fre-
quently occurs in our old dramas. So in the Second Part of
The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601 : —
' I thought it was a lightning before death,
Too sudden to be certain.'
8 So in Sidney's Arcadia, b. iii. : — ' Death being able to divide
he soule, but not the beauty from her body.' And in Daniel's
Complaint of Rosamond, 1594 : —
' Decayed roses of discoloured cheeks
Do yet retain some notes of former grace,
And ugly death sits fair within her face.'1
Death's pale flag,' in the subsequent line, has also its prototype
Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond, 1594 : —
* And nought respecting death (the last of paines)
Plac'd his pale colours (th' ensign of his might)
Upon his new-got spoil,' &c.
\i passage in Marini's Rime Lugubri, 1604, p. 149, bears a very
trong resemblance to this; but Daniel could not have borrowed
t, as Malone suggests: —
' Morte la'nsegna sua, pallida e bianca,
Vincitrice spiegb su'l volto mio.'
VOL. X. O
138 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
That unsubstantial death is amorous 9 ;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour ?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee ;
And never from this palace of dim night 10
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest11;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. — Eyes, look your
last!
Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you
9 Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. 1632, p. 463.
speaking of the power of beauty, tells us : — ' Bat of all the
tales in this kinde, that is most memorable of Death himselfe
when he should have stroken a sweet young virgin with his darl
he fell in love with the object.' Burton refers to the Epwro
7raiyviov of Angerianus ; but Steevens had met with the sam<
fable in some other ancient book. So in Daniel's Complaint o
Rosamond : —
' Ah, now methinks I see death dallying seeks
To entertain itselfe in love's sweete place.'
In the quarto of 1597 the above passage appears thus : —
• Ah, dear Juliet,
How well thy beauty doth become this grave !
O, I believe that unsubstantial death
Is amorous, and doth court my love.
Therefore will I, O here, O ever here,
Set up my everlasting rest
With worms, that are thy chamber-maids.
Come, desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary barge :
Here's to my love. — O, true apothecary,
Thy drugs are swift : thus with a kiss I die.*
The text follows the quarto of 1599, which corresponds wil
the folio; except that some superfluous words and lines, whic
were repeated by the carelessness of the transcriber or printe
are here omitted.
10 In The Second Maiden's Tragedy, recently printed from
MS. in the Lansdown collection, monuments are styled the 'p
laces of death.'
11 See note 1, on Act i\. Sc. 5.
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 139
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! —
Come, bitter conduct12, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark !
Here's to my love ! [Drinks.] — O, true apothecary !
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die.
[Dies.
Enter at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar
Laurence, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed ! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves13? — Who's
there ?
Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?
Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows
you well.
Fri. Bliss be upon you ! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond' that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless sculls ? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
Bal. It doth so, holy sir ; and there's my master,
One that you love.
Fri. Who is it?
Bal. Romeo.
Fri. How long hath he been there ?
Bal. Full half an hour.
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal. , I dare not, sir:
12 Conduct for conductor. So in a former scene : —
' And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now.'
13 This accident was reckoned ominous. So in King Henry VI.
Part in.: —
1 For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.'
Aud in King Richard III. Hastings, going to execution, says: —
1 Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did jftiimWc'
140 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
My master knows not, but I am gone hence ;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.
Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone : — Fear comes upon
me:
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought14,
And that my master slew him.
Fri. Romeo? [Advances.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ? —
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace ?
[Enters the Monument.
Romeo! O, pale! — Who else? what, Paris too?
And steep'd in blood ? — Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance ! —
The lady stirs15. [Juliet wakes and stirs.
Jul. O, comfortable friar ! where is my lord ?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am : — -Where is my Romeo ?
[Noise within.
14 This is one of the touches of nature that would have escaped
the hand of any painter less attentive to it than Shakspeare.
What happens to a person while he is under the manifest influ-
ence of fear, will seem to him, when he is recovered from it, like
a dream. Homer (book viii.) represents Rhesus dying, fast
asleep, and, as it were, beholding his enemy in a dream, plung-
ing a sword into his bosom. Eustathius and Dacier both applaud
this image as very natural ; for a man in such a condition, says
Mr. Pope, awakes no further than to see confusedly what envi-
rons him, and to think it not a reality, but a vision. Let me
add, that this passage appears to have been imitated by Quintus
Calaber, xiii. 125 : —
' UoTfiov 6fi(x)Q opoiovTtg ovupa(nv., Steevens.
15 In the alteration of this play, now exhibited on the stage,
Garrick appears to have been indebted to Otway, who perhaps,
without any knowledge of the story as told by Da Porto and
Bandello, does not permit his hero to die before his wife awakes.
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. Ill
Fri. I hear some noise. — Lady, come from that
nest
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater Power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away :
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead ;
And Paris too ; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns :
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet, — [Noise again.'] I dare stay
no longer. [Exit.
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. —
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's
hand ?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end : —
O churl ! drink all ; and leave no friendly drop,
To help me after? — I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.
Thy lips are warm l6 !
16 Shakspeare has been arraigned for making Romeo die be-
fore Juliet awakes from her trance, and thus losing a happy
opportunity of introducing an affecting scene between these un-
fortunate lovers. He had undoubtedly never read the Italian
novel, or any literal translation of it ; and has in this particular
followed the old poem or an older drama on the subject. Be
this as it may — Augustus Schlegel remarks, that • the poet
seems to have hit upon what was best. There is a measure of
agitation, beyond which all that is superadded becomes torture,
or glides off ineffectually from the already saturated mind. In
case of the cruel reunion of the lovers for an instant, Romeo's
remorse for his overhasty self-murder, Juliet's despair over her
deceitful hope, at first cherished, then annihilated, that she was
at the goal of her wishes, must have deviated into caricatures.
Nobody surely doubts that Shakspeare was able to represent
these with suitable force; but here every thing soothing was
welcome, in order that we may not be frightened out of the
melancholy, to which we willingly resign ourselves, by too pain-
ful discords. Why should we heap still more upon accident,
o 2
142 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
1 Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy: — Which way?
Jul. Yea, noise? — then I'll be brief. — O happy
dagger! [Snatching Romeo's Dagger.
This is thy sheath [Stabs herself] ; there rust, and
let me die17.
[Falls on Romeo's Body, and dies.
Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris.
Page. This is the place ; there, where the torch
doth burn.
1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about
the churchyard:
Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.
[Exeunt some.
Pitiful sight ! here lies the county slain ;
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried. —
Go, tell the prince, — run to the Capulets, —
Raise up the Montagues, — some others search; —
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.
that is already so guilty ? Wherefore shall not the tortured Ro-
meo quietly
" Shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From his world-wearied flesh ?"
He holds his beloved in his arras, and, dying, cheers himself
with a vision of everlasting marriage. She also seeks death, in
a kiss, upon his lips. These last moments must belong unpar-
ticipated to tenderness, that we may hold fast to the thought,
that love lives, although the lovers perish.'
•7 Thus the quarto of 1599. That of 1597 reads :—
Ay, noise ? then must I be resolute.
Oh, happy dagger! thou shalt end my fear j
Rest in my bosom ; thus I come to thee.J
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 143
Enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar.
2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in
the churchyard.
1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come
hither.
Enter another Watchman, with Friar Lau-
rence.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and
weeps :
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
1 Watch. A great suspicion; Stay the friar too.
Enter the Prince and Attendants.
Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Others.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek
abroad ?
La. Cap. The people in the street cry — Romeo,
Some — Juliet, and some — Paris ; and all run,
With open outcry toward our monument.
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our ears ?
1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris
slain ;
And Romeo dead ; and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill'd.
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul
murder comes.
1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's
man ;
With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.
144 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
Cap. O heavens ! — O, wife ! look how our daugh-
ter bleeds !
This dagger hath mista'en, — for lo ! his house
Is empty on the back of Montague, —
And is missheathed in my daughter's bosom m.
La. Cap. O me ! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter Montague and Others.
Prince. Come, Montague ; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night19;
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath ;
What further woe conspires against mine age?
Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.
Mon. O thou untaught ! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave 20 ?
Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
'Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of your woes,
18 The words, ' for lo ! his house is empty on the back of Mon
tague,' are to be considered parenthetical. It appears that tht
dagger was anciently worn behind the back. So in Humor's Or
dinarie : —
' See you yon huge bum dagger at his back?'
And in The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art, 1570
' Thou must wear thy sword by thy side,
And thy dagger handsumly at thy backe.'
19 After this line the quarto of 1597 adds : —
' And young Benvolio is deceased too.'
20 So in The Tragedy of Darius, 1C03 :—
1 Ah me! malicious fates have done me wrong :
Who came first to the world, should first depart.
It not becomes the old t' o'er-live the young;
This dealing is preposterous and over-thwart.'
Thus also in Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece: —
' If children predecease progenitors,
We are their offspring, and they none of ours.'
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 145
And lead you even to death : Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience. —
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Fr%. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus'd.
Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know
in this.
Fri. I will be brief21, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet ;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife :
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You — to remove that siege of grief from her, — ■
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
To county Paris: — Then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion ; which so took effect
A.s I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death : meantime I writ to Romeo,
21 ' It is to be lamented that the poet did not conclude the
lialogue with the action, and avoid a narrative of events which
! he audience already knew.' — Johnson.
Shakspeare was led into this uninteresting narrative by fol-
owing too closely The Tragical Hystory of Romeus and Juliet.
• [n this poem (which is printed in the Variorum Editions of
Shakspeare) the bodies of the dead are removed to a public
-caflbld ; and from that elevation is the Friar's narrative deli-
I vered. The same circumstance is introduced in Hamlet near
the conclusion.
146 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow 'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back : Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault ;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo :
But, when I came (some minute ere the time
Of her awakening), here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes ; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience :
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb ;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems) did violence on herself.
All this I know : and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy : And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacriflc'd, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince. We still haveknownthee for aholy man. —
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death ;
And then in post he came from Mantua.
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it. —
Where is the county's page, that rais'd the watch?
Sirrah, what made your master in this place ?
Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady'^
grave ;
SC. III. ROMEO AND JULIET. 147
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did :
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him ;
And then I ran away to call the watch.
Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's
words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death :
And here he writes — that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. —
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! —
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love !
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen22: — all are punish'd.
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand :
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.
Mon. But I can give thee more :
For I will raise her statue in pure gold ;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at such rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie ;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity !
Prince. A glooming23 peace this morning with it
brings ;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head:
22 Mercutio and Paris. Mercutio is expressly called the
Prince's kinsman in Act iii. Sc. 4 ; and that Paris was also the
Prince's kinsman, may be inferred from the following passages.
Capulet, speaking of the count in the fourth act, describes him
as ' a gentleman of princely parentage ;' and after he is killed,
Romeo says : —
' Let me peruse this face;
Mercutio 's kinsman, noble county Paris.'
23 The quarto of 1597 reads, ' A gloomy peace.' To gloom is
m ancient verb, used by Spenser and other old writers.
148 ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT V.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon 'd, and some punished24:
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo25. [Exeunt.
24 This line has reference to the poem from which the fable
is taken; in which the Nurse is banished for concealing the
marriage ; Romeo's servant set at liberty, because he had only
acted in obedience to his master's orders ; the Apothecary is
hanged ; while Friar Laurence was permitted to retire to a her-
mitage near Verona, where he ended his life in penitence and
tranquillity.
25 Shakspeare in his revision of this play has not effected the
alteration by introducing any new incidents, but merely by add-
ing to the length of the scenes. The piece appears to have
been always a very popular one. Marston, in his Satires, 1598.
says : —
' Luscus, what's play'd to-day? faith, now I know;
I set thy lips abroach, from whence doth flow
Nought but pure Juliet and Romeo.'
The concluding lines may have been formed on the last couplel
of the old poem : —
• among the monuments that in Verona been,
There is no monument more worthy of the sight
Than is the tombe of Juliet and Romeus her knight.'
ROMEO AND JULIET. 149
This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's perform-
ances. The scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous
and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the
process of the action carried on with such probability, at least
with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires.
Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the
conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of
juvenile elegance. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might
easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that
he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third Act, lest he should have
been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person,
but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed,
without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in
quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, that more regard is com-
monly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very
seldom to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gaiety,
and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a
longer life ; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out
the time allotted him in the construction of the play : nor do I
doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his exist-
ence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of
Dryden ; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor
ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive,
and sublime.
The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author de-
i lighted: he has with great subtility of distinction, drawn her
at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty
; and dishonest.
His comick scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetick
, strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations*.
* A. W. Schlegel has answered this remark at length, and,
as I think, satisfactorily, in a detailed criticism upon this tra-
gedy, published in the Horen, a journal conducted by Schiller in
1794 — 1795, and made accessible to the English reader in 01-
lier's Literary Miscellany, Part I. In his Lectures on Dramatic
Literature (vol. ii. p. 135, Eng. translation), will be found some
further sensible remarks upon the ' conceits ' here stigmatized.
It should be remembered that playing on words was a very
favourite species of wit combat with our ancestors. ' With
children, as well as nations of the most simple manners, a great
inclination to playing on words is often displayed ; [they can-
VOL. X. P
150 ROMEO AND JULIET.
His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their
misery, a miserable conceit t. Johnson.
not therefore be both puerile and unnatural: If the first charge
is founded, the second cannot be so.] In Homer we find several
examples; the Books of Moses, the oldest written memorial oi
the primitive world, are, it is well known, full of them. On the
other hand, poets of a very cultivated taste, or orators like Cicero,
have delighted in them. Whoever, in Richard the Second, if
disgusted with the affecting play of words of the dying John o
Gaunt on his own name, let him remember that the same thin§
occurs in the Ajav of Sophocles.' S. W. S.
t This quotation is also found in the Preface to Dryden':
Fables: — ■ Just John Littlewit, in Bartholomew Fair, who hac
a conceit (as he tells you) left him in his misery ; a miserabli
conceit.' Steevens.
HAMLET.
Ophelia. Good night, sweet ladies, good night.
Act iv. Sc. 5.
FROM THE CHISWICK PRESS.
1826.
WfrttiUt, Evince of J&mm&fIL
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
1 he original story on which this play is built may be found in
Saxo Grammaticus, the Danish historian. From thence Belle-
forest adopted it in his collection of novels, in seven volumes,
which he began in 1564, and continued to publish through suc-
ceeding years. It was from Belleforest that the old black letter
prose ' Hystorie of Kamblet' was translated; the earliest edi-
tion of which, known to the commentators, was dated in 1608;
but it is supposed that there were earlier impressions.
The following passage is found in an Epistle, by Thomas
Nashe, prefixed to Greene's Arcadia, which was published in
1589: — ' I will turn back to my first text of studies of delight,
and talk a little in friendship with a few of our rival translators.
It is a common practice now-a-days, among a sort of shifting
companions, that runne through every art and thrive by none, to
leave the trade of Noverint [i. e. the law] whereunto they were
born, and busie themselves with the endeavours of art, that
could scarcely latinize their neck-verse, if they should have
neede; yet English Seneca, read by candle-light, yeelds many
good sentences, as Bloud is a beggar, and so forth : and if you
entreat him faire in a frosty morning, he will aftbord you whole
Hamlets, I should say, Handfuls of tragical speeches. But O
grief! Tempus edax rerum — what is it that will last always?
The sea exhaled by drops will in continuance be drie; and
Seneca, let bloud line by line, and page by page, at length must
needs die to our stage.'
It is manifest from this passage that some play on the story
of Hamlet had been exhibited before the year 1589. Malone
thinks that it was not Shakspeare's drama, but an elder perform-
ance on which, with the aid of the old prose History of Ham-
blet, his tragedy was formed.
In a tract, entitled ' Wits Miserie, or the World's Madnesse,
discovering the incarnate Devils of the Age,' published by Tho-
mas Lodge in 1596, one of the devils is said to be ' a foule
lubber, and looks as pale as the vizard of the ghost, who cried
so miserably at the theatre, Hamlet, revenge.'' But it is sup-
posed that this also may refer to an elder performance.
Dr. Percy possessed a copy of Speght's edition of Chaucer,
which had been Gabriel Harvey's, who had written his name
and the date, 1598, both at the beginning and en. of the volume,
and many remarks in the intermediate leaves ; among which are
these words: — 'The younger sort take mnch delight in Shak-
152 HAMLET.
speare's Venus and Adonis ; but his Lucrece, and his tragedy ol
Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke, have it in them to please ihe
wiser sort.' Malone doubts whether this was written in 1598.
because translated Tasso is named in another note ; but it is nol
necessary that the allusion should be to Fairfax's translation
which was not printed till 1600 : it may refer to the version oi
the first five books of the Jerusalem, published by R. C[arew
in 1594.
We may therefore safely place the date of the first compo
sition of Hamlet at least as early as 1597 ; and, for reasons ad
duced by Mr. George Chalmers, we may presume that it was
revised, and the additions made to it in the year 1600.
The first entry on the Stationers' books is by James Roberts
July 26, 1602 ; and a copy of the play in its first state, printec
for N. L. and John Trundell, in 1603, has recently been disco
vered. As in the case of the earliest impressions of Romeo am
Juliet, and The Merry Wives of Windsor, this edition of Hamle
appears to have been either printed from an imperfect manu
script of the prompt books, or the playhouse copy, or stole
from the author's papers. It is next to impossible that it ca;
have been taken down during the representation, as some hav
supposed was the case with the other two plays.
The variations of this early copy from the play of Hamlet, i
its improved state, are too numerous and striking to admit
doubt of the play having been subsequently revised, amplifier
and altered by the poet. There are even some variations in th
plot; the principal of which are, that Horatio announces to th
Queen Hamlet's unexpected return from his voyage to England
and that the Queen is expressly declared to be innocent of an
participation in the murder of Hamlet's father, and privy to h
intention of revenging his death. There are also some few lin« .
and passages which do not appear in the revised copy. Tl
principal variations are noticed in the course of the notes*.
' It again issued from the press in 1604, in its corrected an
amended state, and in the title-page is stated to be ' newly in
printed, and enlarged to almost as much again as it was, accor<
ing to the true and perfect copy.' From these words Maloi
had drawn the natural conclusion that a former less perfe
copy had issued from the press : but his star was not propitiou:
he never saw it. Though it is said to have formed part of tl
collection of Sir Thomas Hanmer, it only came to light at tl
* There are some singular variations in the names of the Di
matis Personae. Corambis and Montano are the names given
the Polonius and Reynaldo of the revised play ; for Rosencran
and Guildensternwe have Rossencraft and Gilderstone ; and Osn
is merely designated a Braggart Gentleman.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 153
commencement of the present year [1825] ; too late, alas ! even
to gratify the enthusiasm of his zealous friend, that worthy man,
James Boswell ; upon whom devolved the office of giving to the
world the accumulated labours of Malone's latter years, devoted
to the illustration of Shakspeare.
The character of Hamlet has been frequently discussed, and
with a variety of contradictory opinions. Johnson and Steeveus
have made severe animadversions upon some parts of his con-
duct. A celebrated writer of Germany has very skilfully pointed
out the cause of the defects in Hamlet's character, which unlit
him for the dreadful office to which he is called. ' It is clear
to me (says Goethe) that Shakspeare's intention was to exhibit
the effects of a great action, imposed as a duty upon a mind too
feeble for its accomplishment. In this sense I find the character
consistent throughout. Here is an oak planted in a china vase,
proper to receive only the most delicate flowers. The roots
strike out, and the vessel flies to pieces. A pure, noble, highly
moral disposition, but without that energy of soul which consti-
tutes the hero, sinks under a load which it can neither support
nor resolve to abandon altogether. All his obligations are sacred
to him; but this alone is above his powers! An impossibility is
required at his hands ; not an impossibility in itself, but that
which is so to him. Observe how he shifts, turns, hesitates,
advances, and recedes ! how he is continually reminded and
reminding himself of his great commission, which he, neverthe-
less in the end, seems almost entirely to lose sight of, and this
without ever recovering his former tranquillity*.'
Dr. Akenside suggested that the madness of Hamlet is not
altogether feigned; and the notion has of late been revived.
Dr. Ferriar, in his Essay towards a Theory of Apparitions, has
termed the state of mind which Shakspeare exhibits to us in
Hamlet, — as the consequence of conflicting passions and events
operating on a frame of acute sensibility, — latent lunacy.
* It has often occurred to me (says Dr. F.) that Shakspeare's
character of Hamlet can only be understood on this principle : —
He feigns madness for political purposes, while the poet means
to represent his understanding as really (and unconsciously to
himself) unhinged by the cruel circumstances in which he is
placed. The horror of the communication made by his father's
spectre, the necessity of belying his attachment to an innocent
and deserving object, the certainty of his mother's guilt, and the
supernatural impulse by which he is goaded to an act of assassi-
nation abhorrent to his nature, are causes sufficient to overwhelm
and distract a mind previously disposed to " weakness and to
melancholy," and originally full of tenderness and natural affec-
William Meister's Apprenticeship, b. iv. ch. 13.
r 2
154 HAMLET.
tion. By referring to the play it will be seen that his real
insanity is only developed after the mock play. Then, in place
of a systematic conduct, conducive to his purposes, he becomes
irresolute, inconsequent ; and the plot appears to stand unac-
countably still. Instead of striking at his object, he resigns
himself to the current of events, and sinks at length ignobly
under the stream*.' . .
A comedian of considerable talents has entered at large into
the question of Hamlet's madness, and has endeavoured to show
that the poet meant to represent him as insanet. Mr. Boswell,
on the contrary, in a very judicious and ingenious review of
Hamlet's character, combats the supposition, and thinks it en-
tirely without foundation. He argues that ' the sentiments which
fall from Hamlet in his soliloquies, or in confidential communica-
tion with Horatio, evince not only a sound but an acute and vigo-
rous understanding. His misfortunes, indeed, and a sense of
shame, from the hasty and incestuous marriage of his mother,
have sunk him into a state of weakness and melancholy; but though
his mind is enfeebled, it is by no means deranged. It would have
been little in the manner of Shakspeare to introduce two per-
sons in the same play whose intellects were disordered ; but he
has rather, in this instance, as in King Lear, a second time
effected what, as far as I can recollect, no other writer has ever
ventured to attempt — the exhibition on the same scene of real
and fictitious madness in contrast with each other. In carrying
his design into execution, Hamlet feels no difficulty in imposing
upon the King, whom he detests; or upon Polonius, and his
schoolfellows, whom he despises: but the case is very different
indeed in his interviews with Ophelia; aware of the submissive
mildness of her character, which leads her to be subject to the
influence of her father and her brother, he cannot venture to
entrust her with his secret. In her presence, therefore, he has
not only to assume a disguise, but to restrain himself from those
expressions of affection which a lover must find it most difficult
to repress in the presence of his mistress. . In this tumult of
conflicting feelings, he is led to overact his part, from a fear ol
falling below it; and thus gives an appearance of rudeness and
harshness to that which is, in fact, a painful struggle to conceal
his tenderness $.'
Mr. Richardson, in his Essay on the Character of Hamlet, ha.-
well observed that * the spirit of that remarkable scene witl
Ophelia, where he tells her, " get thee to a nunnery," is fre
* Essay on the Theory of Apparitions, p. 111-115.
t On the Madness of Hamlet, by Mr. W. Farren. — Loudoi
Magazine, for April, 1824.
X Boswell's edition of MaloneY Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 536.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. • 155
quentl v misunderstood ; and especially by the players. At least
it does not appear to have been the poet's intention that the air
and manner of Hamlet in this scene should be perfectly grave
and serious ; nor is there any thing in the dialogue to justify the
grave and tragic tone with which it is frequently spoken. Let
Hamlet be represented as delivering himself in a light and airy,
unconcerned and thoughtless manner, and the rudeness so much
complained of will disappear.' His conduct to Ophelia is in-
tended to confirm and publish the notion he would convey of his
pretended insanity, which could not be marked by any circum-
stance so strongly as that of treating her with harshness or
indifference. The sincerity and ardour of his passion for her
had undergone no change : he could not explain himself to her;
and, in the difficult and trying circumstances in which he was
placed, had therefore no alternative.
The poet indeed has marked with a master hand the amiable
and polished character of Hamlet. Ophelia designates him as
having been
' the glass of fashion, and the mould of form }'
and though circumstances have unsettled him, and thrown over
his natural disposition the clouds of melancholy, the kindness
of his disposition and his natural hilarity break through on
every occasion which arises to call them forth.
Mr. Boswell has remarked, that ' the scene with the grave-
diggers shows, in a striking point of view, his good-natured
affability. The reflections which follow afford new proofs of his
amiable character. The place where he stands, the frame of his
own thoughts, and the objects which surround him, suggest the
vanity of all human pursuits; but there is nothing harsh or
caustic in his satire; his observations are dictated rather by
feelings of sorrow than of anger; and the sprightliness of his
wit, which misfortune has repressed, but cannot altogether ex-
tinguish, has thrown over the whole a truly pathetic cast of
humorous sadness. Those gleams of sunshine, which serve only
to show us the scattered fragments of a brilliant imagination,
crushed and broken by calamity, are much more affecting than
a long uninterrupted train of monotonous woe.'
' Ophelia is a character almost too exquisitely touching to be
dwelt upon. Oh, rose of May; oh, flower too soon faded! Her
love, her madness, her death, are described with the truest
touches of tenderness and pathos. It is a character which no-
body but Shakspeare could have drawn in the way that he has
done ; and to the conception of which there is not the smallest
approach, except in some of the old romantic ballads *.'
* Hazlitt's Characters of Shakspeare's Plays, p. 112.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Claudius, King of Denmark.
Hamlet, Son to the former, and Nepheio to the present King.
Polomus, Lord Cluimberlain.
Horatio, Friend to Hamlet.
Laertes, Son to Polonius.
voltimand,
Cornelius,
„ ' > Courtiers.
ROSENCRANTZ
I ]
NTZ, (
rERN, J
GuiLDENSTERI
Osric, a Couruer.
Another Courtier.
A Priest.
Marcellus, ) -_;
t, > Officers.
Bernardo, \
Francisco, h Soldier.
Reynaldo, Servant to Polonius.
A Captain. .4,7 Ambassador.
Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.
Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, and Mother to Hamlet.
Ophelia, Daughter to Polonius.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers
Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.
SCENE— Elsinore.
HAMLET,
PRINCE OF DENMARK.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Elsinore. A Platform before the
Castle.
Francisco on his Post. Enter to him Bernardo.
Bernardo.
Who's there?
Fran. Nay, answer me1; stand, and unfold
Yourself.
Ber. Long live the king !
Fran. Bernardo ?
Ber. He.
Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.
Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed,
Francisco.
Fran. For this relief, much thanks : 'tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.
Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
Fran. Not a mouse stirring.
Ber. Well, good night.
1 i.e. me who am already on the watch, and have a right to
demand the watchword; which appears to have been, ' Long
live the king.'
158 HAMLET, ACT I.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals2 of my watch, bid them make haste.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
Fran. I think, I hear them. — Stand, ho ! Who
is there !
Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
Fran. Give you good night.
Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier:
Who hath reliev'd you?
Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
Give you good night. [Exit Francisco.
Mar. Holla! Bernardo!
Ber. Say.
What, is Horatio there ?
Hor. A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar-
cellus.
Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-
night?
Ber. I have seen nothing.
Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreadful sight, twice seen of us ;
Therefore I have entreated him along,
With us to watch the minutes of this night ;
2 Sbakspeare uses rivals for associates, partners; and compe-
titor has the same sense throughout these plays. It is the ori-
ginal sense of rivalis. The etymology was pointed out by Aero
Grammaticus in his Scholia on Horace : ' A rivo dicto rivales
qui in agris rivum haberent communem, et propter enim sa>pe
discrepabant.' Hanmer applied this explanation: — ' Rivals, in
Latin, being originally applied to proprietors of neighbouring
lands parted only by a brook, which belonged equally to both,
and so signified partners :' this partnership led to contests ; and
hence the word came to signify persons contending for the same
object.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 159
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve 3 our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor. Tush ! tush ! 'twill not appear.
Ber. Sit down awhile ;
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
"What we two nights have seen.
Hor. Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Ber. Last night of all,
When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Wrhere now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,
The bell then beating one, —
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes
again !
Enter Ghost.
Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead.
Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio4.
Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
Hor. Most like: — it harrows5 me with fear, and
wonder.
Ber. It would be spoke to.
Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.
Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
3 To approve or confirm. ' Ratum habere aliquid.' — Baret.
4 It was a vulgar notion that a supernatural being could onlj
be spoken to with effect by persons of learning ; exorcisms be-
ing usually practiced by the clergy in Latin. Toby, in The
Night Walker of Beaumont and Fletcher, says : —
1 Let's call the butler up, for he speaks Latin,
And that will daunt the devil.
5 The first quarto reads, « it horrors me.' To harroic is to
distress, to vex, to disturb. To harry and to harass have the
same origin, from the Gothic haer, an armed force. Milton has
the word in Comus : —
' Amaz'd I stood, harrow1 d with grief and fear.'
1G0 HAMLET, ACT I.
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march ? by heaven I charge thee,
speak.
Mar. It is offended.
JBer. See ! it stalks away.
Hor. Stay ; speak : speak I charge thee, speak.
[Exit Ghost.
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Ber. How now, Horatio ? you tremble, and look
pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy ?
What think you of it ?
Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.
Mar. Is it not like the king ?
Hor. As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on,
When he the ambitious Norway combated ;
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle6,
He smote the sledded Polack7 on the ice.
?Tis strange.
Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump8 at this dead
hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
• 6 Parle, the same as parley, a conference between enemies.
7 i. e. the sledged Polander ; Polaque, Fr. The old copy reads
Pollax. Malone therefore thinks that Shakspeare wrote Polacks,
not considering that it was in a parley, and that a general slaugh-
ter was hardly likely to ensue. Mr. Boswell suggests that it is
just possible the old reading may be right, pole-ax being put for
the person who carried the pole-axe, a mark of rank among the
Muscovites, as he has shown from Milton's Brief History of
Muscovy.
8 Jump. So the quarto of 1603, and that of 1604. The folio
reads just. Jump and just were synonymous in the time of
Shakspeare. So in Chapman's May Day, 1611: —
' Your appointment \\asjumpe at three with me.'
' Thou bendest neither one way nor tother, but art eveajumpe
stark naught. — Buret, B. 486.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 161
Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know
not 9;
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that
knows,
Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land ?
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war ;
Why such impress10 of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week :
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day;
Who is't, that can inform me?
Hor. That can I;
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
(For so this side of our known world esteem'd him),
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
Did forfeit with his life, all those his lands,
Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror :
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our king : which had return'd
9 That is, ' what particular train of thought to follow, I know
not,' &c. The first quarto reads : —
* In what particular to work I know not.'
10 To impress signifies only to retain shipwrights by giving them
vrest money for holding themselves in readiness to be employed.
Thus in Chapman's second book of Homer's Odyssey : —
' I from the people straight will press for you,
Free voluntaries'
See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 2 ; and Blount's Glossography, in v.
prest.
VOL. X. Q
162 HAMLET, ACT I.
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he been vanquisher ; as, by the same co-mart11,
And carriage of the article design'd12,
His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full13,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd14 up a list of landless resolutes,
For food and diet, to some enterprise
That hath a stomach 15 in't : which is no other
(As it doth well appear unto our state),
But to recover of us, by strong hand,
And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands
So by his father lost : And this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations ;
The source of this our watch; and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage16 in the land.
11 Co-mart is the reading of the quarto of 1604 ; the folio
reads, covenant. Co-mart, it is presumed, means a joint bargain.
No other instance of the word is known.
12 i. e. * and import of that article marked out, assigned or ap-
pointed for that purpose.' Designed is here used in the sense of
of designates, Lat.
13 The first quarto reads, ' Of inapproved.' ' Of unimproved
mettle hot and full ;' i. e. of unimpeached or unquestioned courage.
To improve anciently signified to impeach, to impugn. Thus Florio :
1 Improbare, to improove, to impugn.' The French have still
improuver, with the same meaning ; from improbare, Lat. Nume-
rous instances of improve in this sense may be found in the writ-
ings of Shakspeare's time. And yet Johnson explains it, ' full
of spirit, not regulated or guided by knowledge or experience,'
and has been hitherto uncontradicted.
14 i. e. snapped up or taken up hastily. ' Scroccare is properh
to do any thing at another man's cost, to shark or shift for any
thing. Scroccolone, a cunning shifter or sharker for any thing in
time of need, namely for victuals; a tall trencher-man, shifting
up and down for belly cheer.' The same word also signifies to
snap. This word has not yet lost its force in vulgar conversa-
tion.
15 Stomach is used for determined purpose.
16 Romage, now spelt rummage, and in common use as a verb,
though not as a substantive, for making a thorough ransack oj
search, a busy and tumultuous movement.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 163
17 [Ber. I think, it be no other, but even so :
Well may it sort18, that this portentous figure
Conies armed through our watch ; so like the king
That was, and is, the question19 of these wars.
Hor. A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy20 state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
* * ' • * * * * * 21
As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star22,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
And even the like precurse of fierce events, —
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
And prologue to the omen23 coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen. — ]
Re-enter Ghost.
But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me 24. — Stay, illusion !
17 All the lines within crotchets in this play are omitted in
the folio of 1623. The title-pages of the quartos of 1G04 and
1605 declare this play to be ' enlarged to almost as much againe
as it was, according to the true and perfect copie.'
18 i. e. fall in with the idea of, suit, accord.
19 i. e. theme, or subject.
20 i. e. victorious ; the Palm being the emblem of victory.
Chapman, in his Middle Temple Masque, has ' higlir-palm'd hearts.'
21 A line or more is here supposed to be lost.
22 i.e. the moon.
1 Not that night-wand' ring pale and watry star.'
Marlowe's Hero and Leander.
23 Omen is here put by a figure of speech for predicted event.
24 The person who crossed the spot on which a spectre was
seen, became subject to its malignant influence. Among the
reasons for supposing the death of Ferdinand, Earl of Derby,
164 HAMLET, ACT I.
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me:
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me :
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing, may avoid,
O, speak!
Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
[Cock crows.
Speak of it: — stay, and speak. — Stop it, Marcellus.
Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan ?
Hot. Do, if it will not stand.
Ber. Tis here !
Hor. Tis here !
Mar. Tis gone ! [Exit Ghost.
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;
For it is, as the air, invulnerable25,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
(who died yonng, in 1594), to have heen occasioned by witch-
craft, is the following: — ' On Friday there appeared a tall man
who twice crossed him swiftly; and when the earl came to tin
place where he saw this man he fell sick.' — Lodge's Illustration:
of English History, vol. iii. p. 48.
Johnson remarks that the speech of Horatio to the spectre i:
very elegant and noble, and congruous to the common tradition:
of the causes of apparitions.
25 Thus in Macbeth :—
' As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress.'
And in King John: —
• Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven.'
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 165
The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn26,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day ; and at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring27 spirit hies
To his confine : and of the truth herein
This present object made probation.
Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock28.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
"Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long :
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad ;
The nights are wholesome : then no planets strike,
' And now the cocke, the morning's trumpeter,
Play'd hunts-up for the day-stay to appear.'
Drayton.
27 'The extravagant and erring spirit.' ' Extra-vagans, wan-
dering about, going beyond bounds.' Thus in Othello : —
J To an extravagant and wheeling stranger.'
It is remarkable that stravagant is the reading of the first quarto,
which Steevens points out as used in the sense of vagrant. ' They
took me up for a stravagant.' This is the ' stravagare' of the Ita-
lians ; ' to wander, to gad, or stray beyond or out of the way.'
Thus in a Midsummer Night's Dream: —
' And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger,
At whose approach, ghosts wandering here and there
Troop home.'
Erring is erraticus, straying or roving up and down. Mr.
Douce has justly observed that ' the epithets extravagant and
erring are highly poetical and appropriate, and seem to prove
that Shakspeare was not altogether ignorant of the Latin lan-
guage.'
28 This is a very ancient superstition. Philostratus, giving
an account of the apparition of Achilles' shade to Apollonius of
Tyanna, says, ' that it vanished with a little gleam as soon as
the cock crowed.' There is a Hymn of Prudentius, and another
of St. Ambrose, in which it is mentioned; and there are some
lines in the latter very much resembling Horatio's speech.
Mr. Douce has given them in his illustrations of Shakspeare.
Q2
166 HAMLET, ACT I.
No fairy takes 29, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious 30 is the time.
Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But, look, the morn31, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill :
Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet : for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him :
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
Mar. Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most convenient. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
TJie same. A Room of State in the same.
Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius,
Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords,
and Attendants.
King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's
death
The memory be green: and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe ;
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
29 i. e. No fairy blasts, or strikes. Thus in the Merry Wives
of Windsor, Act iv. Sc. 4 : —
' And there he blasts the tree and takes the cattle.'
See note on that passage.
30 It has already been observed that gracious is sometimes
used by Shakspeare for graced, favoured. Vide note on As You
Like It, Act i. Sc. 2.
31 First quarto, ' sun.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 167
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, —
With one auspicious, and one dropping eye1;
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole2,
Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along: — For all, our thanks.
Now follows, that you know, young Fortin-
bras, —
Holding a weak supposal of our worth;
Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleagued 3 with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bands 4 of law,
To our most valiant brother. — So much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.
Thus much the business is : We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, —
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose, — to suppress
His further gait5 herein; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
1 Thus the folio. The quarto reads : —
' With an auspicious and a dropping eye.'
The same thought occurs in The Winter's Tale : — ' She had one
eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the
oracle was fulfilled.' There is an old proverbial phrase, ' To
laugh with one eye, and cry with the other.'
2 i. e. grief.
3 i.e. united to this strange fancy of, &c.
4 The folio reads, bonds; but bands and bonds signified the
same thing in the poet's time.
5 Gait here signifies course, progress. Gait for road, way,
path, is still in use in the north. We have this word again in
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 2 : —
' Every fairy takes his y<iit.'
168 HAMLET, ACT I.
Out of his subject: — and we here despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the king, more than the scope
Of these related articles allow6.
Farewell ; and let your haste commend your duty.
Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show
our duty.
King. We doubt it nothing ; heartily farewell.
[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you ?
You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg,
Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking ?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father7.
What would'st thou have, Laertes ?
6 The folio reads, ' More than the scope of these dilated arti-
cles allow.' I have not scrupled to read related, upon the autho-
rity of the first quarto, as more intelligible. Malone says, ' the
poet should have written allows ;' but the grammar and practice
of Shakspeare's age was not strict in the concordance of plural
and singular in noun and verb ; and numerous examples might
be adduced from his cotemporaries to prove this. The question
is, Are the writers of that time to be tried by modern rules of
grammar, with which they were not acquainted ? Steevens, with
a sweeping assertion, which no one conversant with MSS. of the
time will allow, would atttribute all such inaccuracies to illite-
rate transcribers or printers. We have Malone's assertion, that
such errors are to be met with in almost every page of the first
folio. The first quarto reads : —
' no further personal power
To business with the king
Than those related articles do shew.'
7 The various parts of the body enumerated are not more
allied, more necessary to each other, than the throne of Denmark
(i. e. the king) is bound to your father to do him service.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 169
Laer. My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France ;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation ;
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? What says
Polonius ?
Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my slow
leave,
By laboursome petition; and, at last,
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent :]
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will 8. —
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind9.
[Aside.
8 In the first quarto this passage stands thus : —
' King. With all our heart, Laertes, fare thee well.
Laert. I in all love and dutie take my leave. [Exit.'
The king's speech may he thus explained : — ' Take an auspi-
cious hour, Laertes ; he your time your own, and thy best virtues
guide thee in spending of it at thy will.' Johnson thought that
we should read, ' And my best graces.' The editors had rendered
this passage doubly obscure by erroneously placing a colon at
graces.
9 ' A little more than kin, and less than kind.' This passage
has baffled the commentators, who are at issue about its mean-
ing ; but have none of them rightly explained it. A cotempo-
rary of the poet will lead us to its true meaning. A little more
than kin has been rightly said to allude to the double relation-
ship of the king to Hamlet, as uncle and step-father, his kindred
by blood and kindred by marriage. By less than kind Hamlet
means degenerate and base. ' Going* om* of kinde (says Baret),
which goeth out of kinde, which dothe or worketh dishonour to his
kinred. Degener ; forlignant.'' — ALVEARIE, K. 59. ' Forligner
(says Cotgrave), to degenerate, to grow out of kind, to differ in
conditions with his ancestors.' That less than kind and out of
kind have the same meaning who can doubt?
170 HAMLET, ACT I.
King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun 10.
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids u
Seek for thy noble father in the dust :
Thou know'st, 'tis common ; all, that live, must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not
seems.
Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly : These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play ;
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe 12.
King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your na-
ture, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father :
10 It is probable that a quibble is intended between sun and
son. The old spelling is sonne.
i. e. with eyes cast down.
1 Vail your regard
Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said a maid.'
Measure for Measure, vol. i.
My grief lies all within ;
ii
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.'
King Richard II.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 171
But you must know your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his 13; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow 14. But to persever
In obstinate condolement15, is a course
Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven10;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd :
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fye! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd ; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
Tliis must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing 17 woe ; and think of us
As of a father : for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne ;
And with no less nobility of love I8,
13 i.e. your father lost a father (your grandfather), which lost
grandfather also lost his father. The first quarto reads, ' That
father dead, lost his' —
14 Obsequious sorrow is dutiful, observant sorrow. Shakspeare
seems to have used this word generally with an allusion to obse-
quies, or funereal rites.
15 Condolement for grief.
16 ' It shows a will most tindisciplined tmvards heaven.'
17 Unprevailing was used in the sense of unavailing as late as
Dryden's time. ' He may often prevail himself of the same ad-
vantages in English.' — Essay on Dramatic Poetry, 1st ed.
• And dyvers noble victoryes, as the history doth express,
That he atchyved to the honor of the town,
Could not him prevayle whan Fortune lyst to frown.'
Metrical Visions, by G. Cavendish, p. 81.
18 This was a common form of figurative expression. The
Ghost, describing his affection for the Queen, says : — >
' To me, whose love ivas of that dignity.'
172 HAMLET, ACT I.
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart19 toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire :
And, we beseech you, bend20 you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers,
Hamlet ;
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply ;
Be as ourself in Denmark. — Madam, come ; '
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ;
And the king's rouse21 the heaven shall bruit again,
Bespeaking earthly thunder. Come away.
[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, fyc. Polonius,
and Laertes.
19 i. e. dispense, bestow. Thus Dryden : —
' High state and honours to others impart,
But give me your heart.'
20 To bend is to incline. * The moste parte bende to, &c : In
hoc consilium maxime inclinant,' &c. — Baret.
21 The quarto of 1603 reads :—
* The rouse the king shall drink unto the prince.'
A rouse appears to have been a deep draught to the health of
any one, in which it was customary to empty the glass or vessel.
Its etymology is uncertain; but I suspect it to be only an
abridgment of carouse, which is used in the same sense. — See
Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1627, p. 194.
Carouse seems to have come to us from the French, who again
appear to have derived it from the German gar-auss, to drink all
out: at least so we may judge from the following passage in
Rabelais, B. iii. Prologue: — ' Enfans, beuvez a plein godets. Si
bon ne vous semble, laissez le. Je ne suis de ces importuns
lifrelofres, qui par force, par outrage, et violence contraignent
ias gentils compaignons trinquer, boire caroms, et allauz.'
The reader may consult Mr. Giflbrd's Massinger, vol. i. p. 240.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 173
Ham. 0, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve 22 itself into a dew !
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 23 'gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! O God !
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world !
Fye on't ! O fye ! 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely 2i. That it should come to this !
But two months dead! — nay, not so much, not two :
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion23 to a satyr : so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem26 the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth !
22 To resolve had anciently the same meaning as to dissolve.
' To thaw or resolve that which is frozen ; regelo — The snow is
resolved and melted. To till the ground, and resolve it into
dust.'— - Cooper. This is another word in a Latin sense; but it
is not peculiar to Shakspeare.
23 The old copy reads, cannon; but this was the old spelling
of canon, a law or decree.
24 i. e. absolutely, solely, wholly. Mere, Lat.
23 Hyperion, or Apollo, always represented as a model of
beauty. Shakspeare has been followed by Gray in the accen-
tuation of this name : —
' Hyperion's march and glittering shafts of war.'
Sir William Alexander and Drummond have accented it pro-
perly, Hyperion.
26 i. e. deign to allow. This word being of uncommon occur-
rence, it was changed to permitted by Rowe ; and to let e'en by
Theobald. Steevens had the merit of pointing out the passage
in Golding's Ovid, which settles its meaning: —
' Yet could he not beteeme
The shape of any other bird than egle for to seeme.'
' nulla tamen alite verti
Bignatur, nisi quae possit sua fulmine ferre.'
Rowe has an elegant imitation of this passage : —
' I thought the gentlest breeze that wakes the spring
Too rough to breathe upon her.'
The word occurs again in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act i.
So. 2.
VOL. X. R
174 HAMLET, ACT I.
Must I remember ? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on : And yet, within a month, —
Let me not think on't; — Frailty, thy name is wo-
man ! —
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears ; — why she, even she, —
O heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason27,
Would have mourn'd longer, — married with my
uncle,
My father's brother ; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules : Within a month ;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married : — O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets !
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;
But break, my heart : for I must hold my tongue !
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus
Hor. Hail to your lordship !
27 • Oh heaven ! a beast that wants discourse of reason.' Mr
Gifford, in a note on Massinger, vol. i. p. 149, is of opinion tha
we should read, ' discourse and reason.' It has, however, bee
shown by several quotations that ' discourse of reason' was th
phraseology of Shakspeare's time; and, indeed, the poet agai
uses the same language in Troilus and Cressida, Actii. Sc. 2 :—
' is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason —
can qualify the same.'
In the language of the schools, ' Discourse is that rational <i(
of the mind by which we deduce or infer one thing from another
Discourse of reason therefore may mean ratiocination. Brut*
have not this reasoning faculty, though they have what has bee
called instinct and memory. Hamlet opposes the discursive pow<
of the intellect of men to the instinct of brutes in Act iv. Sc.
which may tend to elucidate his present meaning, if the read
has any doubts. The first quarto reads, ' a beast devoid of reasoi
We have discourse of thought, for the discursive range of thougl
in Othello, Act iv. Sc. 2.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 175
Ham. I am glad to see you well ;
Horatio, — or I do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant
ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that name
with you.
And what make you28 from Wittenberg, Horatio ? —
Marcellus ?
3Iar. My good lord,
Ham. I am very glad to see you: good even, sir. —
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so :
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow student;
I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd
meats29
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
' Would, I had met my dearest30 foe in heaven
Or 31 ever I had seen that day, Horatio !
My father, — Methinks, I see my father.
28 i. e. what do you. "Vide note on Love's Labour's Lost,
Activ. Sc. 3.
29 It was anciently the custom to give an entertainment at a
funeral. The usage was derived from the Roman caena funeralis ;
and is not yet disused in the North, where it is called an arvel
supper.
30 See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1, p. 335.
31 This is the reading of the quarto of 1004. The first quarto
and the folio read, ' Ere I had ever.'
176 HAMLET, ACT I.
Hor. Where,
My lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye 32, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?
Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father T
Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear ; till 1 may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
Ham. For God's love let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the nisfht33,
himself behind
Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind.''
Rape of Lucrece.
Chaucer has the expression in bis Man of Lawe's Tale: —
' But it were with thilke eyen of his mind,
Which men mowen see whan they ben blinde.'
And Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Love's Triumphs : —
' As only by the mind's eye may be seen.'
And Richard Rolle, in his Speculum Vitas, MS. speaking of Ja-
cob's Dream : —
' That Jacob sawe with gostly eye.1
i. e. the eye of the mind or spirit.
33 The first quarto, 1603, has :—
' In the dead vast and middle of the night.'
I suffer the following note to stand as I had written it previous
to the discovery of that copy.
We have ' that vast of night' in The Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2.
Shakspeare has been unjustly accused of intending a quibble
here between toaist and waste. There appears to me nothing
incongruous in the expression ; on the contrary, by ' the dead
waste and middle of the night,' I think, we have a forcible image
of the void stillness of midnight.
SC. If. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 177
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed to point, exactly, cap-a-pe,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, distill'd34
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did ;
And I with them, the third night kept the watch ;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes ; I knew your father ;
These hands are not more like.
Ham. But where was this ?
Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?
Hor. My lord, I did :
But answer made it none : yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak ;
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud35;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.
Ham. 'Tis very strange.
Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true ;
34 The folio reads, bestiWd.
35 ' It is a most inimitable circumstance in Shakspeare so to
have managed this popular idea, as to make the Ghost, which
has been so long obstinately silent, and of course must be dis-
missed by the morning, begin or rather prepare to speak, and to
be interrupted at the very critical time of the crowing of a cock.
Another poet, according to custom, would have suffered his
ghost tamely to vanish, without contriving this start, which is
like a start of guilt: to say nothing of the aggravation of the
future suspense occasioned by this preparation to speak, and to
impart some mysterious secret. Less would have been expected
if nothing had been promised.' — T. Warton.
R 2
178 HAMLET, ACT I.
And we did think it writ down in our duty,
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
All. We do, my lord.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
All. Arm'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe ?
All. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham. Then saw you not
His face.
Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver36 up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor. A countenance more
In sorrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale, or red ?
Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you ?
Hor. Most constantly.
Ham. I would, I had been there.
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like,
Very like : Stay'd it long ?
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell
a hundred.
Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham. His beard was grizzl'd ? no ?
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd 37.
36 That part of the helmet which may be lifted up. Mr. Douce
has given representations of the beaver, and other parts of a
helmet, and fully explained them in his Illustrations, vol. i.
p. 443.
37 ' And sable curls all silvered o'er with white.'
Shak spear e' s Twelfth Sonnet.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 179
Ham. I will watch to-night ;
Perchance, 'twill walk again.
Hor. I warrant you, it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable38 in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue ;
I will requite your loves : So, fare you well :
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
All. Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus, and
Bernardo.
My father's spirit in arms ! all is not well ;
I doubt some foul play : 'would, the night were come !
Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
[Exit*
SCENE III. A Room in Polonius' House.
Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
Laer. My necessaries are embark'd ; farewell :
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.
Oph. Do you doubt that ?
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
58 The quarto of 1603 reads tenible. The other quartos tena-
ble. The folio of 1623 treble.
180 HAMLET, ACT I.
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute 1 ;
No more.
Oph. No more but so ?
Laer. Think it no more :
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews2, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now ;
And now no soil, nor cautel 3 doth besmirch 4
The virtue of his will : but, you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own ;
For he himself is subject to his birth :
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of the whole state 5 ;
1 This is the reading of the quarto copy. The folio has —
' sweet, not lasting,
The suppliance of a minute.'
It is plain that perfume is necessary to exemplify the idea of
sweet not lasting. ' The suppliance of a minute' should seem to
mean supplying or enduring only that short space of time as tran-
sitory and evanescent. The simile is eminently beautiful : it is
to be regretted that it should be obscured bj an unusual word.
2 i. e. sinews and muscular strength. Vide note on the SecoiK
Part of King Henry IV. Act iii. Sc. 2.
3 Cautel is cautious circumspection, subtlety, or deceit. Min
sheu explains it, ' a crafty way to deceive.' Thus in a Lover';
Complaint : —
• In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives/
And in Coriolanus : —
' be caught by cautelous baits and practice.'
' The virtue of his will' means his virtuous intentions.
4 Besmirch is besmear, or sully.
5 « The safety and health of the whole state.' Thus the quart
of 1G04. In the folio it is altered to ' The sanctity,' &c. suj
posing the metre defective. But safety is used as a trisyllab!
by Spenser and others. Thus Hall in his first Satire, b. iii.: —
1 Nor fish can dive so deep in yielding sea,
Though Thetis self should swear her safety.'
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 181
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
Whereof he is the head : Then if he says he loves
you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,
As he in his particular act and place
May give his saying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list6 his songs;
;Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd7 importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister ;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest8 maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon :
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then : best safety lies in fear ;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart ; But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
"Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ;
I' Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless9 libertine,
6 ' If with too credulous ear you listen to his songs.
7 Licentious.
8 i.e. the most cautious, the most discreet. In Green's Never
oo Late, 1616 : — ' Love requires not chastity, hut that her sol-
liers he chary.' And again : — ' She lives chastly enough that
ives charily.' We have chariness in The Merry Wives of Wind-
er ; and unchary in Twelfth Night, Act iii. Sc. 4.
9 Rechless, or negligent; Omissus animus. — Baret.
182 HAMLET, ACT I.
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read 10.
Laer. O fear me not.
I stay too long; — But here my father comes.
Enter Polonius.
A double blessing is a double grace ;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Pol. Yet here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, for
shame ;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for: There, — my blessing with
you;
[Laying Ms Hand on Laertes' Head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character11. Give thy thoughts no
tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel12;
But do not dull thy palm13 with entertainment
10 i. e. regards not his own lesson. In The Two Angry Women
of Abington, 1599, we have: — ' Take heed, is a good reed.' And
in Sternhold, Psalm i. : —
' Blest is the man that hath not lent
To wicked rede his ear.'
11 i. e. mark, imprint, strongly infix. In Shakspeare's 122d
Sonnet: —
' thy tables are within my brain
Fnll character' d with lasting memory?
And in The Two Gentlemen of Verona : —
• I do conjure thee,
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character 'd and engraved.'
12 The old copies read, ' with hoops of steel,'
13 ' Bat do not dull thy palm.' This figurative expressioi
means, ' do not blunt thy feeling by taking every new acquaint
ance by the hand, or by admitting him to the intimacy of i
friend.'
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 183
Of each new hatch'd, unfledgM comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in,
Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice :
Take each man's censure u, but reserve thy judg-
ment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy :
For the apparel oft proclaims the man :
And they in France, of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous, chief15 in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be :
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry l6.
This above all, — To thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season17 this in thee !
14 i.e. judgment, opinion; censura, Lat. Thus in King Henry
VI. Part II. :—
1 The king is old enough to give his censure.''
15 The quarto of 1G03 reads :—
• Are of a most select and generall chief in tits.'
The folio :—
' Are of a most select and generous cheff, in that.'
The other quartos give the line : — -
' As of a most select and generous, cheefe in that.'
' Or of a most select and generous, cheefe in that.'
Malone has tried to torture the passage into a meaning, hy sup-
posing an allusion to the chief or upper part of a shield in
heraldry. But the redundancy of the line, and discrepancy of
the copies, evidently show it to be corrupt. The simple emen-
dation by omitting of a, and the proper punctuation of the line,
make all clear. ' The nobility of France are most select and
high-minded (generosus) chiefly in that;' chief being an adjective
used adverbially. We have generous for high minded, noble, in
Othello, and in Measure for Measure.
16 i. e. thrift, economical prudence.
17 ' To season, for to infuse,' says Warburton. ' It is more
than to infuse, it is to infix in such a manner that it may never
184 HAMLET, ACT I.
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants
tend18.
Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
What I have said to you.
Oph. Tis in my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer. Farewell. [Exit Laertes.
Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you ?
Oph. So please you, something touching the lord
Hamlet.
Pol. Marry, well bethought:
Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous :
If it be so (as so 'tis put on me,
And that in way of caution), I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour:
What is between you ? give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
Pol. Affection ? puh ! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted19 in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them ?
Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
Pol. Marry, I'll teach you : think yourself a baby ;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
wear out,' says Johnson. But hear one of the poet's cotempo-
raries : — ' To season, to temper wisely, to make more pleasant
and acceptable.' — Buret. This is the sense required, and is a
better commentary than the conjectures of the learned critics,
Warburton and Johnson, could supply. Thus in Act ii. Sc. 1,
Polonius says to Reynaldo, • You may season it in the charge.'
And in a former scene Horatio says : —
' Season your admiration for a while.'
18 Wait. 19 i. e. untried, inexperienced.
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 185
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly ;
Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Wronging it thus), you'll tender me a fool20.
Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love,
In honourable fashion21.
Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech,
my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks 22. I do
know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows23: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat, — extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a making, —
You must not take for tire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments 24 at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, That he is young;
And with a larger tether25 may he walk,
20 Shakspeare makes Polonius play on the equivocal use of
the word tender, which was anciently used in the sense of regard
or respect, as well as in that of offer. The folio reads, ' roaming
it thus ;' and the quarto, ' ivrong it thus.'
21 Ophelia uses fashion for manner; and Polonius equivocates
upon the word, taking it in its usual acceptation, for a transient
practice.
22 This was a proverbial phrase. There is a collection of
epigrams under that title : the woodcock being accounted a wit-
less bird, from a vulgar notion that it had no brains. • Springes
to catch woodcocks ' means ' arts to entrap simplicity.'
23 ' How prodigal the tongue lends the heart vows,' 4to. 1603.
24 i. e. ' be more difficult of access, and let the suits to you for
that purpose be of higher respect, than a command to parley.'
How Johnson could conceive entreatments to signify company,
conversation, I am at a loss to imagine.
25 i. e. with a longer line ; a horse fastened by a string to a
stake, is tethered: figuratively with more licence.
VOL. X. S
186 HAMLET, ACT I.
Than may be given you : In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows : for they are brokers'-0,
Not of that die which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all, —
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you ; come your ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Platform.
Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.
Ham, The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
Hor. It is a nipping and an eager1 air.
Ham. What hour now ?
Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.
Mar. No, it is struck.
Hor. Indeed ? I heard it not ; it then draws near
the season,
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot
off, within.
What does this mean, my lord ?
Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his
rouse 2.
26 i. e. panders. Brokage and to broke was anciently to deal in
business of an amatory nature by procurement. Thus in A
Lover's Complaint : —
• Know vows are ever brokers to defiling.'
1 Eager was used in the sense of the French a'r,re, sharp.
2 See note 21, p. 172.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 187
Keeps wassel 3, and the swaggering up-spring4 reels ;
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
Hor. Is it a custom ?
Ham. Ay, marry, is't :
But to my mind, — though I am native here,
And to the manner born, — it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel, east and west5,
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations :
They clepe6 us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase
3 The origin of the word wassel is thus related by Geffrey of
Monmouth : — ' On Vortigern's first interview with Rowena she
kneeled before him, and presenting a cup of wine, said to him
Lord king icees heel, i. e. be health, or health be to you ! Vorti-
gern, unacquainted with the Saxon language, inquired the mean-
ing of these words, and being told that he should answer them
by saying Drinc heil, he did so, and commanded Rowena to
drink; then taking the cup from her hand he kissed the damsel
and pledged her. From that time the custom remained in
Britain that whoever drank to another at a feast said Was heel,
and he that immediately after received the cup answered Drinc
heil.' The story is also told in the Metrical Chronicle of Robert
of Brunne. To keep roassell was to devote the time to festivity.
Vide Love's Labour's Lost, Act v. Sc. 2. To icake signified to
revel at night. Vide Florio in voce Veggia.
4 I take upspring here to mean nothing more than upstart.
Steevens, from a passage in Chapman's Alphonsus, thought that
it might mean a dance.
5 This and the following twenty-one lines are omitted in the
folio. They had probably been omitted in representation, lest
they should give offence to Anne of Denmark.
6 Clepe, call clypian, Sax. The Danes were indeed proverbial
as drunkards, and well they might be, according to the accounts
of the time. ' A lively French traveller, being asked what he
had seen in Denmark, replied, " Rien de singulier sinon qu'ony
chante tous les jours le Roi boit," alluding to the French mode
of celebrating Twelfth Day.' See De Brieux Origines de
quelques Coutumes, p. 56. Heywood in his Philocothonista, or
The Drunkard Opened, &c. 1635, 4to. speaking of what he calls
the vinosity of nations, says of the Danes, that they have made a
profession thereof from antiquity, and are the first upon record
188 HAMLET, ACT I.
Soil our addition7 ; and, indeed it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That, for some vicious mole 8 of nature in them,
As, in their birth (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin),
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion 9,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason ;
Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens
The form of plausive manners ; — that these men, —
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect ;
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star 10, —
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,)
Shall in the general censure n take corruption
From that particular fault : The dram of bale
Doth all the noble substance often doubt12
To his own scandal.
that brought their wassel bowls and elbowe deepe healthes into
this land.' — Douce. Roger Ascham,in one of his Letters, says,
' The Emperor of Germany, who had his head in the glass five
times as long as any of us, never drank less than a good quart at
once of Rhenish wine.' See also Howel's Letters, 8vo. 1726,
p. 236. Muffet's Health's Improvement, 4to. 1635, p. 294.
Harington's Nugae Antiquae, 8vo. 1804, vol. i. p. 349.
7 i. e. characterize us by a swinish epithet.
8 i. e. spot, blemish.
9 Complexion for humour. By complexion our ancestors under-
stood the constitutions or affections of the body.
10 i. e. the influence of the planet supposed to govern our
birth, &c.
11 i. e. judgment, opinion.
12 The last paragraph of this speech stands in the quarto edi-
tions thus : —
• the dram of eale
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
To his own scandal.'
Steevens reads : —
' The dram of base
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 189
Enter Ghost.
Hor. Look, my lord, it comes !
Ham. Angels and ministers of grace,defend us13 ! —
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd 14,
Doth all the noble substance often dout [i. e. do out.]
To his own scandal.'
Malone proposed : —
' The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance of worth dout
To his own scandal.'
I see no reason why dout should be substituted for doubt. The
editors have unwarrantably made the same substitution in King
Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 2, and then cite it as a precedent. Mr.
Boswell has justly observed, that to doubt may mean to bring
into doubt or suspicion ; many words similarly formed are used
by Shakspeare and his cotemporaries. Thus to fear is to create
fear ; to pale is to make pale ; to cease is to cause to cease, &c. I
have followed the emendation in other respects, though I have
ventured to read bale (i. e. evil) instead of base, as nearer to the
reading of the first edition. A passage of similar import is in
King Henry IV. Part I. :—
' Oftentimes it doth present harsh rage
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain :
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Losetb men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain,
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.'
13 Hamlet's speech to the apparition of his father seems to
consist of three parts. When he first sees the spectre, he forti-
fies himself with an invocation: —
' Angels and ministers of grace, defend us !'
As the spectre approaches, he deliberates with himself, and de-
termines that, whatever it be, he will venture to address it : —
1 Be thou a spirit of health,' &c.
This he says while his father's spirit is advancing ; he then, as
he had determined, speaks to him, and calls him : —
' Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me !'
Johnson.
14 ' Art thou a god, a man, or else a ghost ?
Com'st thou from heaven, where bliss and solace dwell?
Or from the airie cold-engendering coast?
Or from the darksome dungeon-hold of hell ?'
Acolastus, or After Wit, 1604.
s 2
190 HAMLET, ACT I.
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable 15 shape,
That I will speak to thee : I'll call thee, Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me :
Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell,
Why thy canoriiz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd16,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again ! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel17
Bevisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition18,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ?
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.
Mar. Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground :
But do not go with it.
Hor. No, by no means.
Ham. It will not speak ; then I will follow it.
Hor. Do not, my lord.
Ham. Why, what should be the fear ?
15 Questionable must not be understood in its present accepta-
tion of doubtful, but as conversable, inviting question or conversa-
tion; this was the most prevalent meaning of the word in Sbak-
speare's time.
16 Quarto 1603— interr'd.
17 It appears from Olaus Wormius, cap. vii. that it was the
custom to bury the Danish kings in their armour. The accen-
tuation of complete and canonized on the first syllable is not pe-
culiar to Shakspeare, but the practice of several of his cotem-
poraries.
18 Frame of mind.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 191
I do not set my life at a pin's fee19;
And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again; — I'll follow it.
Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my
lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
That beetles 20 o'er his base into the sea ?
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason21,
And draw you into madness ? think of it :
The very place puts toys22 of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.
Ham. It waves me still : —
Go on, I'll follow thee.
Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ham. Hold off your hands.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham. My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. —
[Ghost beckons.
Still am I call'd; — unhand me, gentlemen; —
[Breaking from them.
19 • I do not estimate my life at the value of a pin.'
20 i. e. overhangs his base. Thus in Sidney's Arcadia, b. i. —
' Hills lift up their beetle brows, as if they would overlooke the
pleasantnesse of their under prospect.' The verb to beetle is
apparently of Shakspeare's creation.
21 • To deprive your sovereignty of reason,' signifies to take
from you or dispossess you of the command of reason. We have
similar instances of raising the idea of virtues or qualities by
giving them rank in Banquo's ' royalty of nature,' and even in
this play we have ' nobility of love,' and ' dignity of love.'
22 i. e. whims.
192 HAMLET, ACT I.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets23 me : —
I say, away : — Go on, I'll follow thee.
[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.
Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.
Mar. Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after : — To what issue will this come ?
Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hor. Heaven will direct it24.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. A more remote Part of the Platform.
Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet.
Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, I'll go
no further.
Ghost. Mark me.
Ham. I will.
Ghost. My hour is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Ham. Alas, poor ghost!
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt
hear.
Ham. What?
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;
23 • Villains, set down the corse, or by St. Paul
Fit make a corse of him that disobeys.'
King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.
To let, in old language is to hinder, to stay, to obstruct; and still
a current term in leases and other legal instruments.
24 Marcellus answers Horatio's question, ' To what issue will
this come ?' and Horatio also answers it himself with pious
resignation, * Heaven will direct it.'
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 193
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night ;
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires1,
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away2. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison hous e,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ;
Make thy two eyes,like stars, start from their spheres3;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine4:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. — List, list, O list! —
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,
1 The first quarto reads : —
' Confin'd inflaming fire.'
The spirit being supposed to feel the same desires and appetites
as when clothed in the flesh, the pains and punishments pro-
mised by the ancient moral teachers are often of a sensual nature.
Chaucer in the Persones Tale says, ' The misese of hell shall be
in defaute of mete and drinke.'
• Thou shalt lye in frost and fire,
"With sicknes and hunger,' &c.
The Wyll of the Bevyll, blk. 1.
2 Gawin Douglas really changes the Platonic hell into ' the
punytion of the saulis in purgatory.' Dr. Farmer thus com-
pressed his account : — ' It is a nedeful thyng to suffer panis and
torment ; — sum in the wyndis, sum under the watter, and in the
fire uther sum : thus the mony vices —
Contrakkit in the corpis be done away
And pur git.'
3 ' How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever.' Sh. Son. 108.
4 Vide note on The Comedy of Errors, Act iii. Sc. 2. It is
porpentine in the old editions in every instance. Fretful is the
reading of the folio ; the quartos read fearful. The irascible
nature of the animal is noted in a curious passage of the Specu-
lum Vitae, by Richard Rolle, MS. : —
1 That beest is felle and sone is wrath,
And when he is greved he wol do scathe ;
For when he tenes [angers] he launches out felly
The scharpe pinnes in his body.'
194 HAMLET, ACT I.
Ham. O heaven !
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural
murder 5.
Ham. Murder?
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings
as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost. I find thee apt ;
And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf 6,
Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abus'd : but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life 7,
Now wears his crown.
Ham. O, my prophetick soul ! my uncle !
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce !) won to his shameful lust
5 There is an allusion to the ghost in this play, or in an older
one of the same name, by Lodge in his Wit's Miserie and the
World's Madness, 1596. He describes one of his Devils, by
name Hate Virtue, as ' afoule lubber, who looks as pale as the
vizard of the Ghost, which cried so miserably at the theattre,
Hamlet, revenge.'
6 The folio reads — rots itself, &c. In the Humorous Lieu-
tenant, by Beaumont and Fletcher, we have: —
• This dull root pluck'd from Lethe's flood.'
Otway has a similar thought: —
■ like a coarse and useless dunghill weed
Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow.'
7 Quarto 1603— heart.
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 19-3
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen :
O, Hamlet, what a falling-offwas there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage ; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine !
But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven ;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.
But soft ! methinks, I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be : — Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure8 hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon9 in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment : whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
8 This is also a Latinism, securus, quiet, or unguarded.
9 Hebenon may probably be derived from henbane, the oil of
which, according to Pliny, dropped into the ears, disturbs the
brain : and there is sufficient evidence that it was held poisonous
by our ancestors, in Anton's Satires, 1606, we have : —
• The poison'd henbane, whose cold juice doth kill.'
And Drayton, in his Baron's Wars, p. 51 : —
' The poisoning henbane and the mandrake dread.'
The French name comes near in sound, hannebane. It is, how-
ever, possible that poisonous qualities may have been ascribed to
ebony ; called ebene, and ebeno, by old English writers. Marlow,
in his Jew of Malta, speaking of noxious things, says: —
' The blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane,
The juyce of hebon, and cocytus breath.'
The French word hebenin, which would be applied to any thing
made from ebony, comes indeed very close to the hebenon of
Shakspeare. In confirmation of ray conjecture, I find the newly
discovered quarto, 1603, reads — hebona.
196 HAMLET, ACT I,
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager 10 droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine ;
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.
Thus was I, sleeping; by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd11;
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd 12, disappointed l3, unanel'd H ;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head : .
O, horrible ! O, horrible ! most horrible !
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
10 In Sc. iv. we have eager air for sharp biting air. ' Ejer
(says Baret), sower, sharp, acidus, aigre.'
11 Quarto 1603, deprived. I bave-elsewhere remarked that to
dispatch and to rid were synonymous in Shakspeare's time.
12 Unhousetd is without having received the sacrament. Thus
in Hormanni Vulgaria, 1519 : — ' He is departed without shryfte
and housylV And in Speculum Vitae, MS. it is a sin —
' To receive nat once in the yeare
Howsel and schrifte with conscience clere.'
13 Disappointed is the same as unappointed, and may be ex-
plained unprepared. A man well furnished for an enterprise
is said to be well appointed. In Measure for Measure, Isabella
addresses her brother, who is condemned to die, thus : —
' Therefore your best appointment make with speed.'
14 UnaneVd is without extreme unction. Thus in Cavendish's
Life of Wolsey, edit. 1824, p. 324 : — « Then we began to put him
in mind of Christ's passion ; and sent for the abbot of the place
to anneal him.' ' The fyfth sacrament is anoynting of seke men,
the whiche oyle is halowed of the bysshop, and raynystred by
preestes that ben of lawfull age, in grete peryll of dethe : in
lyghtnes and abatynge of theyr sikenes, yf God wyll that they
lyve ; and in forgyveynge of their venyal synnes and releasynge of
theyr payne, yf they shal deye.' — The Festyvaf, fol. 171.
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 197
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once !
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual tire l3 :
Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember me. [Exit.
Ham. O all you host of heaven ! O earth ! What
else ?
And shall I couple hell ? — O fye ! — Hold, hold, my
heart ;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up ! — Remember thee ?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe 1(j. Remember thee ?
Yea, from the tables of my memoiy n
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Fnmix'd with baser matter : yes, by heaven.
O most pernicious woman !
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain !
My tables, — meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ;
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark :
[ Writing.
15 Uneffectual, i. e. shining without heat. The use of to pale
as a verb is rather unusual, but not peculiar to Shakspeare. It
is to be found in Chaucer and our elder writers.
16 i. e. in this head confused with thought.
17 Thus in the Second Part of King Henry IV. Act iv. Sc. 1 :—
• And therefore will he wipe his tables clean,
And keep no tell-tale in his memory?
' Tables or books, or registers for inemorie of things,' were then
used by all ranks, and contained prepared leaves from which
what was written with a silver style could easily be effaced.
VOL. X. T
198 HAMLET, ACT I.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word1*;
It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me.
I have sworn't.
Hor. [ Within.] My lord, my lord,
Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,
Hor. [ Within.] Heaven secure him !
Ham. So be it !
Mar. [ Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord !
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come 19.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
Mar. How is't, my noble lord !
Hor. What news, my lord?
Ham. 0 wonderful !
Hor. Good my lord, tell it.
Ham. No ;
You will reveal it.
Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Mar. Nor I, my lord.
Ham. How say you then ; would heart of man
once think it ?
But you'll be secret, ■
Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling- in all Den-
mark,
But he's an arrant knave.
18 The quarto 1603 has — ' Noiv to the tcords.' By ' Now to my
word' Hamlet means now to my motto, my word of remembrance ;
or as it is expressed by King Richard III. woi-d of courage.
Steevens asserted that the allusion is to the military watchword.
A word, mot, or motto, was any short sentence, such as is in-
scribed on a token, or under a device or coat of arms. It was a
common phrase. See Ben Jonson's Works, by Mr. Gilford,
vol. ii. p. 102.
19 This is the call which falconers use to their hawk in the
air when they would have him come down to them. Thus in
Tyro's Roaring Megge, 1598 : —
' Yet ere I journie, He go see the kyte,
Come, come, bird, come: pox on you, you can mute/
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 199
Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from
the grave,
To tell us this.
Ham. Why, right; you are in the right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part :
You, as your business, and desire, shall point you; —
For every man hath business, and desire,
Such as it is, — and, for my own poor part,
Look you, I will go pray.
Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my
lord.
Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes,
'Faith, heartily.
Hor. There's no offence, my lord.
27am. Yes, by SaintPatrick20, but there is,Horatio,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here, —
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you :
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'ermaster it as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.
Hor. What is't, my lord?
We will.
Ham. Never make known what you have seen
to-night.
Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not.
Ham. Nay, but swear't.
Hor. In faith,
My lord, not I.
20 Warburton has ingeniously defended Shakspeare for making
the Danish prince swear by St. Patrick, by observing that the
whole northern world had their learning from Ireland. It is,
however, more probable that the poet seized the first popular
imprecation that came to his mind, without regarding whether it
suited the country or character of the person to whom he
gave it.
200 HAMLET, ACT I.
Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith.
Ham. Upon my sword.
Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already.
Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.
Ham. Ha, ha, boy ! say'st thou so ? art thou
there, true-penny ?
Come on, — you hear this fellow in the cellarage, —
Consent to swear.
Hor. Propose the oath, my lord.
Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen,
Swear by my sword21.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.
Ham. Hicfyubique ! then we'll shift our ground : —
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword :
Swear by my sword,
Never to speak of this that you have heard.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword.
Ham. Well said, old mole ! canst work i'the
earth so fast?
A worthy pioneer ! — Once more remove, good friends.
Hor. O day andnight, but this is wondrous strange !
Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
21 The custom of swearing by the sword, or rather by the
cross at the upper end of it, is very ancient. In the Soliloquy
of Roland, addressed to his sword, the cross which the gard and
handle form is not forgotten : — ' Capulo eburneo candidissime,
cruce aurea splendidissime,' &c. — Turpini de Gestis Carol. Mag.
cap. 22. The name of Jesus was not unfrequently inscribed on
the handle. The allusions to this custom are very numerous in
our old writers, and Warburton has noticed it in Bartholinus De
Causis Contempt. Mort. apud Danos. Simon Maioli, in his very
curious book Dierum Canicularium, mentions that the ancient
Germans swore by the sword and death. Leonato, in The Win-
ter's Tale, Act ii. Sc. 3, says: —
' Swear by this sioord,
Thou wilt perform my bidding.'
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 201
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
But come:
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy !
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antick disposition on, —
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, Well, well, we know ; — or, We could, an if we
would; — or, If we list to speak; — or, There be, an
if they might ; —
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me : — This not to do,
swear ~2 ;
So grace and mercy at your most need help you !
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.
Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit23 ! So,gentlemen,
22 The quarto 1604 reads — ' this do swear.' The construction
of this passage is rather embarrassed, but the sense is suflicientl y
obvious without explanation.
23 ' Shakspeare has riveted our attention to the ghost by a
succession of forcible circumstances : — by the previous report of
the terrified sentinels, — by the solemnity of the hour at which
the phantom walks, — by its martial stride and discriminating
armour, visible only per incertam lunam, by the glimpses of the
moon, — by its long taciturnity, by its preparation to speak,
when interrupted by the morning cock, — by its mysterious
reserve throughout its first scene with Hamlet, — by his resolute
departure with it, and the subsequent anxiety of his attendants,
— by its conducting him to a solitary angle of the platform, by
its voice from beneath the earth, — and by its unexpected burst
on us in the closet. Hamlet's late interview with the spectre
must in particular be regarded as a stroke of dramatic artifice.
The phantom might have told his story in the presence of the
officers and Horatio, and yet have rendered itself as inaudible to
them as it afterwards did to the queen. But suspense was the
poet's object; and never was it more effectually created than in
the present instance. Six times has the royal semblance ap-
peared, but till now has been withheld from speaking. For this
event we have waited with impatient curiosity, unaccompanied
by lassitude, or remitted attention.' — Steevens.
T 2
*202 HAMLET, ACT 1.
With all my love I do commend me to you :
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
And still your ringers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint; — O cursed spite !
That ever I was born to set it right !
Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. A Room in Polonius' House.
Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.
Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Rey-
naldo.
Rey. I will, my lord.
Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Rey-
naldo,
Before you visit him, to make inquiry
Of his behaviour.
Rey. My lord, I did intend it.
Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look
you, sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers * are in Paris ;
And how, and who,what means, and where they keep,
What company, at what expense; and finding,
By this encompassment and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
Than your particular demands will touch it :
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him ;
1 i. e. Danes. Warner, in his Albion's England, calls Den-
mark Danske.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 203
As thus, — I know his father, and his friends,
And, in part, him ; — Do you mark this, Reynaldo ?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
Pol. And, in part, him ; — but, you may say, not
well :
But, ift be he I mean, he's very wild;
Addicted so and so ; — and there put on him
What forgeries you please ; marry, none so rank
As may dishonour him ; take heed of that;
But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.
Rey. As gaming, my lord.
Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing2, swearing, quar-
relling,
Drabbing : — You may go so far.
Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.
Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.
You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency ;
That's not my meaning : but breathe his faults so
quaintly,
That they may seem the taints of liberty ;
The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind ;
A savageness3 in unreclaimed blood,
Of general assault.
Rey. But, my good lord,
Pol. Wherefore should you do this ?
Rey. Ay, my lord,
I would know that.
Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift ;
2 ' The cunning of fencers is now applied to quarrelling : they
thinke themselves no men, if for stirring of a straw, they prove
not their valure uppon some bodies fleshe.' — Gosson's Schole of
Abuse, 1579.
3 ' A wildness of untamed blood, such as youth is generally
assailed by.'
204 HAMLET, ACT II.
And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant :
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little soiFd i'the working,
Mark you,
Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assur'd,
He closes with you in this consequence ;
Goad sir, or so4; or friend, or gentleman, —
According to the phrase, or the addition,
Of man, and country.
Rey. Very good, my lord.
Pol. And then, sir, does he this, — He does —
What was I about to say ? — By the mass, I was
about to say something : — Where did I leave ?
Hey. At, closes in the consequence.
Pol. At, closes in the consequence, — Ay, marry ;
He closes with you thus : — / know the gentleman ;
I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
Or then, or then ; with such, or such ; and, as you say,
There was he gaming ; there overtook in his rouse ;
There falling out at tennis: or, perchance,
I saw him enter suck a house of sale
( Videlicit, a brothel), or so forth.
See you now ;
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth :
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with assays of bias3,
By indirections find directions out;
So, by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son : You have me, have you not?
Rey. My lord, I have.
4 So, for so forth, as in the last act : — ' Six French rapiers and
poniards with their assigns, as girdle, hanger, and so.'
5 i. e. hy tortuous devices and side essays. ' To assay, or rather
essay, of the French word essayer, tentare,' sajs Baret.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 205
Pol. God be wi' you; fare you well.
Rey. Good my lord,
Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself6.
Rey. I shall, my lord.
Pol. And let him ply his musiek.
Rey. Well, my lord.
[Exit.
Enter Ophelia.
Pol. Farewell ! — How now, Ophelia ? what's the
matter ?
Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so af-
frighted !
Pol. With what, in the name of heaven?
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbrac'd;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarterd, and down-gyved7 to his ancle ;
Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ;
And with a look so piteous in purport,
x\s if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speak of horrors, — he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?
Oph. My lord, I do not know ;
But, truly, I do fear it.
Pol. * What said he?
Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm ;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so ;
At last, — a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down, —
6 i. e. in your own person, personally add your own observa-
tions of his conduct to these inquiries respecting him.
7 Hanging down like the loose cincture which confines the
fetters or gyves round the ancles.
206 HAMLET, ACT II.
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk 8,
And end his being : That done, he lets me go :
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ;
For out o'doors he went without their help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
Pol. Come, go with me ; I will go seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love ;
Whose violent property foredoes9 itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, —
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did com-
mand,
I did repel his letters, and denied
His access to me.
Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment,
I had not quoted10 him : I fear'd, he did but trifle,
8 i. e. his breast. * The bulke or breast of a man, Thorax, la
poitrine.' — Buret. Thus in King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4,
Clarence says : —
' but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth, —
But smothered it within my panting bulk.'
Malone cites this and the following passage, and yet explains it
all his body ! —
' her heart
Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.'
Rape of Lucrece.
9 To foredo and to undo were synonymous. Thus in Othello : —
' That either makes me or fordoes me quite.'
10 To quote is to note, to mark. Thus in The Rape of Lu-
crece : —
' Yea, the illiterate
Will quote my loathed trespass in my looks.'
This word in the quarto is written coted, which was the old ortho-
graphy of quoted.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 207
And meant to wreck thee ; but, beshrew my jealousy !
It seems, it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion n. Come, go we to the king :
This must be known ; which, being kept close, might
move
More grief to hide, than hate to utter love 12.
Come 13. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in the Castle.
Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guilden-
stern, and Attendants.
King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and Guilden-
stern !
Moreover that we much did long to see you,
The need, we have to use you, did provoke
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation ; so I call it,
Since not1 the exterior nor the inward man
Resembles that it was : What it should be,
More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
So much from the understanding of himself,
I cannot dream2 of: I entreat you both,
11 This is not the remark of a weak man. It is always the
fault of a little mind made artful by long commerce with the
world. The quartos read, ' By heaven it is as proper,' &c.
12 This must be made known to the king, for (being kept
secret) the hiding Hamlet's love might occasion more mischief
to us from him and the queen, than the uttering or revealing it
will occasion hate and resentment from Hamlet.' Johnson,
whose explanation this is, attributes the obscurity to the poet's
* affectation of concluding the scene with a couplet.' There would
surely have been more affectation ia deviating from the univer-
sally established custom.
13 Folio omits come.
1 Quarto — siih nor. 2 Folio— deem.
208 HAMLET, ACT II.
That, — being of so young days brought up with him :
And, since, so neighboured to his youth and hu-
mour3,—
That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
Some little time : so by your companies
To draw him on to pleasures ; and to gather,
So much as from occasion you may glean,
Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus4,
That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of
you;
And, sure I am, two men there are not living,
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
To show us so much gentry5, and good will,
As to expend your time with us awhile,
For the supply and profit6 of our hope,
Your visitation shall receive such thanks
As fits a king's remembrance.
Ros. Both your majesties
Might, by the sovereign power you have of us7,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Guil. But8 we both obey ;
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent9,
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.
King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guilden
stern :
3 Quarto — haviour. 4 This line is omitted in the folio
5 Gentry for gentle courtesy. * Gentlemanlinesse or gentr
kindness, or natural goodness. Generositas.' — Baret.
6 Supply and profit is aid and advantage.
7 i. e. over us. 8 Folio omits but.
9 There is no ground for the assertion that this metaphoric
expression is derived from bending a bow. See Much A
About Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 3. Hamlet in a future scene says :
• They fool me to the very top of mv hent. '
i. e. to the utmost of my inclination or disposition.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 209
Queen. Thanks, Guilden stern, and gentle Rosen-
crantz ;
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed son. — Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our prac-
tices,
Pleasant and helpful to him !
Queen. Ay, Amen !
[Exeunt Ros. Guil. and some Attendants.
Enter Polonius.
Po/.The embassadors from Norway, my good lord,
Are joyfully return'd.
King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.
Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
Both to my God, and to my gracious king ;
And I do think (or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail 10 of policy so sure
As it hath u us'd to do) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King. O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
Pol. Give first admittance to the embassadors ;
My news shall be the fruit 12 to that great feast.
King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them
in. [Exit Polonius.
He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
The head and source of all your son's distemper.
Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main ;
His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.
10 i. e. the trace or track. Vestigium. It is that vestige,
whether of footmarks or scent, which enables the hunter to fol-
low the game.
11 Folio — as I have.
12 Folio — news. By fruit dessert is meant.
VOL. X. U
210 HAMLET, ACT II.
Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and
Cornelius.
King. Well, we shall sift him. — Welcome, my
good friends !
Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?
Vol. Most fair return of greetings and desires.
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
His nephew's levies ; which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
But, better look'd into, he truly found
It was against your highness : Whereat griev'd, —
That so his sickness, age, and impotence,
Was falsely borne in hand13, — sends out arrests
On Fortinbras ; which he, in brief, obeys ;
Receives rebuke from Norway ; and, in fine,
Makes vow before his uncle, never more
To give the assay 14 of arms against your majesty.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee15;
And his commission, to employ those soldiers,
So levied as before, against the Polack :
With an entreaty, herein further shown,
[Gives a Paper.
That it might please you to give quiet pass
13 i. e. deluded, imposed on, deceived by false appearances
It is used several times by Shakspeare, Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 1
Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. Sc. 1 ; Cymbeline, Sc. ult.
14 Malone refers to the custom of taking the assay of wine
&c. before it was drunk by princes and other great persons, t<
ascertain that it was not poisoned. But the expression in th<
text has nothing to do with that custom. To give the assay q
arms is ' to attempt or essay any thing in arms, or by force
uiccirigi armisJ I have to request the reader's patience for thi
superfluous note, but it is really sometimes impossible to resis
exposing such mistakes.
15 That is, the king gave his nephew a feud or fee in land c
that annual value. The quartos read three score thousand.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 211
Through your dominions for this enterprise ;
On such regards of safety, and allowance,
As therein are set down.
King. It likes us well :
And, at our more consider'd time, we'll read,
Answer, and think upon this business.
Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour :
Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together :
Most welcome home !
[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
Pol. This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate l6
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, —
I will be brief: Your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it : for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad :
But let that so.
s
16 i. e. to inquire. ' Polonius is a man bred in courts, exer-
cised in business, stored with observation, confident in his know-
ledge, proud of his eloquence, and declining into dotage. His
mode of oratory is designed to ridicule the practice of those
times, of prefaces that made no introduction, and of method that
embarrassed rather than explained. This part of his character
is accidental, the rest natural. Such a man is positive and con-
fident, because he knows that his mind was once strong, and
knows not that it is become weak. Such a man excels in gene-
ral principles, but fails in particular application. He is knowing
in retrospect, and ignorant in foresight. While he depends upon
his memory, and can draw from his depositaries of knowledge,
he utters weighty sentences, and gives useful counsel : but as
the mind in its enfeebled state cannot be kept long busv and in-
tent, the old man is subject to the dereliction of his faculties, he
loses the order of his ideas, and entangles himself in his own
thoughts, till he recover the leading principle, and fall into his
former train. The idea of dotage encroaching upon wisdom,
will solve all the phenomena of the character of Polonius.' —
Johnson.
212 HAMLET, ACT II.
Queen. More matter, with less art.
Pol. Madam, I swear 1 use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true : 'tis true, 'tis pity ;
And pity 'tis, 'tis true : a foolish figure ;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
Mad let us grant him then : and now remains,
That we find out the cause of this effect;
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ;
For this effect, defective, comes by cause:
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Perpend.
I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine ;
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this : Now gather and surmise.
-^-To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified17 Ophelia,
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautified is a
vile phrase ; but you shall hear. — Thus :
In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.18
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ?
Pol. Good madam, stay awhile ; I will be faith-
ful.—
Doubt thou, the stars are fire; [Reads;
Doubt, that the sun doth move :
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt J love.
17 Vile as Polonius esteems the phrase, from its equivocal
meaning, Shakspeare has used it again in The Two Gentlemen of
Verona : —
■ Seeing you are beautified
With goodly shape,' &c.
Nash, in his dedication of Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, 1594 :
— * To the most beautified Lady Elizabeth Cary.' It is not un-
common in dedications and encomiastic verses of the poet's age.
18 See note on The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act iii. Sc. 1.
Formerly the word these was usually added at the end of the
superscription of letters. The folio reads: — • These in her ex-
cellent white bosom these.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 213
0 dear Ophelia, / am ill at these numbers ; I have
not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee
best, 0 most best, believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me :
And more above, hath his solicitiugs,
As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to mine ear.
King. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love ?
Pol. What do you think of me ?
King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might
you think,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me), what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk, or table-book ;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb19;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight ;
What might you think ? no, I went round20 to work,
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak ;
19 ' If I had play'd the desk, or table-book ;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb.'
That is ' If I had acted the part of depositary of their secret
loves, or given my heart a hint to be mute about their passion.'
The -quartos read — ' given my heart a working,' and the modern
editors follow this reading: I prefer the reading of the folio.
1 Conniventia, a winking at ; a sufferance ; a feigning not to see or
know.' The pleonasm, mute and dumb, is found in the Rape of
Lucrece : — ,
' And in my hearing be you mute and dumb.'
20 Plainly, roundly, without reserve. Polonius, in the third
act, says, ' be round with him.'
u 2
214 HAMLET, ACT II.
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star21 ;
This must not be : and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice ;
And he, repulsed (a short tale to make),
Fell into a sadness ; then into a fast ;
Thence to a watch ; thence into a weakness ;
Thence to a lightness ; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves22,
And all we mourn for.
King. Do you think, 'tis this ?
Queen. It may be, very likely.
Pol. Hath there been such a time (I'd fain
know that),
That I have positively said, ' Tis so,
When it prov'd otherwise ?
King. Not that I know.
Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise :
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.
21 This was changed to sphere in the 4to. 1632, and that read-
ing is followed by the modern editions. • Out of thy star,' is
placed above thee by destiny. We have fortune's star in a for-
mer scene. Aumerle in King Richard III. says : —
1 Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars.'
22 ' The ridicule of this character is here admirably sustained.
He would not only be thought to have discovered this intrigue
by his own sagacity, but to have remarked all the stages of
Hamlet's disorder, from his sadness to his raving, as regularly
as his physician could have done ; when all the while the mad-
ness was only feigned. The humour of this is exquisite from a
man who tells us, with a confidence peculiar to small politicians,
that he could find —
" Where truth was hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre." ' Warburton.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 215
King. How may we try it further ?
Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours
together,
Here in the lobby.
Queen. So he does, indeed.
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him :
Be you and I behind an arras then ;
Mark the encounter : if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm, and carters.
King. We will try it.
Enter Hamlet, ret
Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch
comes reading.
Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away;
I'll board23 him presently : — O, give me leave. —
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy.
Pol. Do you know me, my lord?
Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
Pol. Not I, my lord.
Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.
Pol. Honest, my lord ?
Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes,
is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Pol. That's very true, my lord.
Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead
dog, being a god, kissing carrion24, Have you
a daughter ?
23 i. e. accost, address him. See Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 3.
24 The old copies read — ' being a good kissing carrion.' The
emendation is Warburton's, who has accompanied it with a long
comment, in which he endeavours to prove that Shakspeare in-
21G HAMLET, ACT II.
Pol. I have, my lord.
Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun: conception is
a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive25, —
friend, look to't.
Pol. How say you by that ? [Aside.'] Still harp-
ing on my daughter: — yet he knew me not at first;
he said, I was a fishmonger : He is tar gone, far
gone : and, truly in my youth I suffered much ex-
tremity for love ; very near this. I'll speak to him
again. — What do you read, my lord?
Ham. Words, words, words !
Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
tended the passage as a -vindication of the ways of Providence in
permitting evil to abound in the world. He observes that Shak-
speare ' had an art not only of acquainting the audience with what
his actors say, but what they think.' This emendation, and the
moral comment on it, delighted Dr. Johnson, who says ' that it
almost sets the critic on a level with the author !' There was
certainly much ingenuity in the emendation (which is unques-
tionably right) as well as in the argument, but the latter appear?
totally irrelevant and strained, and certainly was rather intendec
to show the skill and ingenuity of the critic than to raise the
character of the poet, or display his true meaning. Warburtor
pointed out the same kind of expression in Cymbeline : — ' Com
mon-kissing Titan.' And Malone has adduced the following
passage from the play of King Edward III. 1596, which Shak
speare had certainly seen : —
• The freshest summer's day doth soonest taint
The loathed carrion that it seems to kiss.'
25 The folio reads — ' Conception is a blessing, but not as you
daughter may conceive.' Steevens thinks that there is a pla;
upon words here, as in the first scene of King Lear : —
' Kent. I cannot conceive you, sir.
1 Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could.'
But the simple meaning may be, ' though conception in general b
a blessing, yet as your daughter may chance to conceive that i
may be a calamity, every thing being so corrupt or sinful in th
world ;' he therefore counsels Polonius not to let his daughte
* walk i'the sun,' i. e. be too much exposed to the corrupting ir
iluence of the world. The abrupt transitions and obscurities t
Hamlet's language are intended to give Polonius a notion ^f h'
insanity.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 217
Ham. Between who ?
Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
Ham. Slanders, sir : for the satirical rogue26 says
here, that old men have gray beards : that their
faces are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick amber,
and plum-tree gum ; and that they have a plentiful
lack of wit, together with most weak hams : All of
which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently
believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set
down ; for yourself, sir, should be as old as I am,
if, like a crab, you could go backward.
Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method
in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my
lord?
Ham. Into my grave ?
Pol. Indeed, that is out o'the air. — How preg-
nant sometimes his replies are ! a happiness that
often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
meeting between him and my daughter. — My ho-
nourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave
of you 2T.
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing
that I will more willingly part withal ; except my
life, except my life, except my life.
Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
Ham. These tedious old fools !
26 By ' the satirical rogue' Warburton will have it that Shak-
speare means Juvenal, and refers to a passage on old age in his
tenth satire. Dr. Farmer states that there was a translation of
that satire by Sir John Beaumont, but is uncertain whether it was
printed in Shakspeare's time. The defects of age were, however,
a common topic of moral reflection.
27 This speech is abridged thus in the quartos : —
' I will leave him and my daughter. My lord,
I will take my leave of you.'
218 HAMLET, ACT II.
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet ; there he is.
Ros. God save you, sir! [To Polonius.
[Exit Polonius.
Guil. My honour'd lord! —
Ros. My most dear lord ! —
Ham. My excellent good friends ! How dost
thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads,
how do ye both ?
Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy ;
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe ?
Ros. Neither, my lord.
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the
middle of her favours ?
Guil. 'Faith, her privates we.
Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most
true; she is a strumpet. What news?
Ros. None, my lord ; but that the world is grown
honest.
Ham. Then is doomsday near : But your news
is not true28. [Let me question more in particular:
What have you, my good friends, deserved at the
hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison
hither ?
Guil. Prison, my lord !
Ham. Denmark's a prison.
Ros. Then is the world one.
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many
confines, wards, and dungeons ; Denmark being one
of the worst.
Ros. We think not so, my lord.
Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you ; for there is
28 All within crotchets is wanting in the quarto copies.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 219
nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it
so : to me it is a prison.
Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one ; 'tis
too narrow for your mind.
Ham. O God ! I could be bounded in a nutshell,
and count myself a king of infinite space; were it
not that I have bad dreams.
Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition ; for
the very substance of the ambitious is merely the
shadow of a dream29.
Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.
Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and
light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies ; and our
monarchs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars'
shadows30: Shall we to the court? for, by my
fay31, I cannot reason.
Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you.
29 Shakspeare has accidentally inverted the expression of
Pindar, that the state of humanity is gkkxq ovap, the dream of a
shadow. Thus also Sir John Davies : —
' Man's life is but a dreame, nay, less than so,
A shadow of a dreame.'
And Lord Sterline, in his Darius, 1603 : —
' Whose best was but the shadow of a dream?
These passages remind me of a beautiful thought in George
Chapman's Poem on the Death of Prince Henry, which I have
cited elsewhere : —
' O God, what doth not one short hour snatch up
Of all man's gloss ? — Still overflows the cup
Of his burst cares ; put with no nerves together,
And lighter than the shadow of a feather.'
30 • If ambition is such an unsubstantial thing, then are our
beggars (who at least can dream of greatness) the only things of
substance, and monarchs and heroes, though appearing to fill
such mighty space with their ambition, but the shadows of the
beggars' dreams.' Johnson thought that Shakspeare designed ' a
ridicule of those declamations against wealth and greatness, that
seem to make happiness consist in poverty.'
31 See note on the Induction to Taming of a Shrew, p. 351.
220 HAMLET, ACT II.
Ham. No such matter : I will not sort you with
the rest of my servants ; for, to speak to you like an
honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.] But,
in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at
Elsinore 32 ?
Ros. To visit you, my lord ; no other occasion.
Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in
thanks ; but I thank you ; and sure, dear friends,
my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you
not sent for ? Is it your own inclining ? Is it a free
visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come,
come; nay, speak.
Guil. What should we say, my lord?
Ham. Any thing — but to the purpose. You
were sent for ; and there is a kind of confession in
your looks, which your modesties have not craft
enough to colour : I know, the good king and queen
have sent for you.
Ros. To what end, my lord ?
Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con-
jure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the
consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our
ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better
proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct
with me, whether you were sent for, or no ?
Ros. What say you? [To Guildenstern.
Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you 33; [Aside J]
— if you love me, hold not off.
Guil. My lord, we were sent for.
Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipa-
tion prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to
32 See note on Love's Labour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3.
33 To have an eye of any one is to have an inkling of his pur-
pose, or to be aware of what he is about. It is still a common
phrase. The first quarto has : — ' Nay, then I see how the wind
sets.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 221
the king and queen moult no feather. I have of
late (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all ray mirth,
forgone all custom of exercises : and, indeed, it
goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly
frame, the earth, seems to me to be a steril promon-
tory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you,
this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical
roof fretted with golden fire 34, why, it appears no
other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congre-
gation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man !
How noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in
form, and moving, how express and admirable ! in
action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how
like a god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon
of animals ! And yet, to me, what is this quint-
essence of dust? man delights not me, no nor wo-
man neither ; though, by your smiling, you seem to
say so.
Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts.
Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said,
Man delights not me ?
Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in
man, what lenten35 entertainment the players shall
receive from you : we coted 36 them on the way ; and
hither are they coming, to offer you service.
Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome ;
his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adven-
34 ' Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patins of bright gold.'
Merchant of Venice.
35 See Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5, p. 310, note 2.
36 To cote is to jniss alongside, to pass by : —
' Marry, presently coted and outstript them.'
Return from Parnassus.
' With that Hippomenes coted her.'
Golding's Ovid, Metain. ii.
It was a familiar hunting term, and its origin from d cott, French,
is obvious.
VOL. X. X
222 HAMLET, ACT II.
turous knight shall use his foil, and target: the
lover shall not sigh gratis ; the humorous man shall
end his part in peace : [the clown shall make those
laugh, whose lungs are tickled o'the sere37;] and
the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse
shall halt for't. — What players are they ?
Ros. Even those you were wont to take such
delight in, the tragedians of the city.
Ham. How chances it, they travel38? their resi-
37 The first quarto reads : — • The clown shall make them laugh
that are tickled in the lungs.' The words as they now stand are
in the folio. The meaning appears to he, the clown shall make
even those laugh whose lungs are tickled with a dry cough, or
huskiness; by his merriment shall convert even their coughing
into laughter. The same expression occurs in Howard's Defen-
sative against the Poyson of supposed Prophecies, 1620, folio :
— ' Discovering the moods and humours of the vulgar sort to be
so loose and tickle of the seare.'
38 In the first quarto copy this passage stands thus : —
1 Ham. How comes it that they travel ? do they grow restie 1
' Gil. No, my lord, their reputation holds as it was wont.
• Ham. How then ?
* Gil. I faith, my lord, novelty carries it away, for the princi
pal publike audience that came to them, are turned to private
plays, and to the humour of children.'
By this we may understand what Hamlet means in sayinj
' their inhibition comes of the late innovation,' i. e. their preven
tion or hinderance comes from the late innovation of companies o
juvenile performers, as the children of the revels, the children o
St. Pauls, &c. They have not relaxed in their endeavours t<
please, but this (brood) aiery of little children are now th'
fashion, and have so abused the common stages as to deter man
from frequenting them. Thus in Jack Drum's Entertainmen*
or Pasquil and Catherine, 1601 : —
* I sawe the children of Powles last night,
And troth they pleased me prettie prettie well,
The apes in time will do it handsomely.
Pla. I'faith,
I like the audience that frequenteth there
With much applause : a man shall not be chokt
"With the stench of garlick, nor be pasted
To the barmy jacket of a beer-brewer.
• Bra. 'Tis a good gentle audience, and I hope
The boys will come one day in great request.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 223
dence, both in reputation and profit, was better both
ways.
Ros. I think, their inhibition comes by the means
of the late innovation.
Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the city ? Are they so followed ?
Ros. No, indeed, they are not.
Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted
pace : But there is, sir, an aiery 39 of children, little
eyases40, that cry out on the top of question41, and
are most tyrannically clapped fort : these are now
the fashion ; and so berattle the common stages (so
they call them), that many, wearing rapiers, are
afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come thither.
Ham. What, are they children? who maintains
them? how are they escoted42? Will they pursue
the quality43, no longer than they can sing? will
they not say afterwards, if they should grow them-
selves to common players (as it is most like, if their
means are no better,) their writers do them wrong,
to make them exclaim against their own succession ?
Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both
39 i. e. a brood.
40 i.e. young nestlings ; properly young unfledged hawks.
41 Question is speech, conversation. The meaning may there-
fore be, they cry out on the top of their voice.
42 i. e.paid.
43 i. e. profession. Mr. Gifford has remarked that ' this word
seems more peculiarly appropriated to the profession of a player
by our old writers.' But in Measure for Measure, Angelo,
when the Bawd and Tapster are brought before him, inquires
what quality they are of. In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, the
Outlaws speak of men of our quality. And Sir Thomas Eliot, in
his Platonic Dialogue, 1534 : — ' According to the profession or
qualitee, wherein men have opinion that wisdome doth rest, so
ought to be the forme of livinge, countenance, and gesture.' He
is speaking of philosophers.
4 No longer than they can sing,' i. e. no longer than they keep
the voices of boys, and sing in the choir.
224 HAMLET, ACT II.
sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre44
them on to controversy : there was, for a while, no
money bid for argument, unless the poet and the
player went to cuffs in the question.
Ham. Is it possible ?
Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of
brains.
Ham. Do the boys carry it away?
Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and
his load too45.
Ham. It is not very strange: for my uncle is
King of Denmark, and those, that would make
mouths46 at him while my father lived, give twenty,
forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece, for his pic-
ture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this
more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
[Flourish of Trumpets within.
Guil. There are the players.
Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore.
Your hands. Come then : the appurtenance of wel-
come is fashion and ceremony : let me comply 47
44 i. e. set them on, a pbrase borrowed from the setting on a
dog. Thus in King John : —
1 Like a dog that is compelled to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.'
45 i. e. carry all the world'before them : there is perhaps an
allusion to the Globe theatre, the sign of which is said to have
been Hercules carrying the globe.
46 First copy, ' mops and lnoes.' Folio, ' mowes.'
47 ' Let me comply with you in this garb.' Hanmer, with his
usual temerity, changed comply to compliment, and Steevens has
contented himself with saying that he means ' to compliment
with/ here and in a passage in the fifth act, ' He did comply with
bis dug before he sucked it,' where that sense would be even
more absurd. He evidently never looked at the context. Ham-
let has received his old schoolfellows with somewhat of the
coldness of suspicion hitherto, but he now remembers that this
is not courteous : He therefore rouses himself to give them a
proper reception, ■ Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. —
Your hands. Come then, the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 225
with you in this garb ; lest my extent to the players,
which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should
more appear like entertainment than yours. You
are welcome: but my uncle-father, and aunt-mo-
ther, are deceived.
Guil. In what, my dear lord ?
Ham. I am but mad north-north west ; when
the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand-
saw48.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen !
Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern; — and you too;
— at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you see
there, is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.
Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to
them ; for, they say, an old man is twice a child.
Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of
the players ; mark it. — You say right, sir : o'Mon-
day morning; 'twas then, indeed.
Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.
and ceremony : let me EMBRACE you in this fashion : lest I should
seem to give you a less courteous reception than I give the play-
ers, to whom I must behave with at least exterior politeness.'
That to comply with was to embrace will appear from the follow-
ing passages in Herrick : —
1 witty Ovid, by
"Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply,
With iv'ry wrists, his laureat head, and steeps
His eye in dew of kisses, while he sleeps.'
Again
a rug of carded wool
Which, sponge-like, drinking in the dull
Light of the moon, seem'd to comply,
Cloud-like, the dainty deity/
Dr. Nott's Selections from Herrick, pp. 127 and 153.
48 The original form of this proverb was undoubtedly ' To
know a hawk from a hernshauj,' that is, to know a hawk from the
heron which it pursues. The corruption is said to be as old as
the time of Shakspeare.
x2
226 HAMLET, ACT II.
Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you ; When
Roscius was an actor in Rome,
Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham. Buz, buz 4Q!
Pol. Upon my honour,
Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,
Pol. The best actors in the world, either foi
tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comi-
cal, historical-pastoral [tragical-historical, tragical-
comical-historical-pastoral]50, scene individable, or
poem unlimited: — Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
Plautus too light for the law of writ51 and the
liberty : — these are the only men.
Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, — what a
treasure hadst thou !
Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord?
Ham. Why — One fair daughter, and no more,
The which he loved passing well52.
Pol. Still on my daughter. « [Aside.
Ham. Am I not i'the right, old Jephthah ?
Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a
daughter, that I love passing well.
49 Surely the commentators need not have expended their
ingenuity on this common interjection.
50 The words within crotchets are not in the quartos.
51 Writ for writing, a common abbreviation, which is not yet
obsolete : we still say holy writ, for the sacred writings. I
should not have noticed this, but that there have been editors
who thought that we should read, ' the law of wit.' The quarto
of 1603 reads, 'for the law hath writ.' The modern editions
have pointed this passage in the following manner: — ' Scene in-
dividable, or poem unlimited; Seneca cannot be too heavy nor
Plautus too light. For the law of writ, and the liberty, these
are the only men.' I have adhered to the pointing of the quarto,
because it appears to me that the law and the liberty of writing
relates to Seneca and Plautus, and not to the players.
52 An imperfect copy of this ballad, of ' Jephtha, Judge of
Israel,' was given to Dr. Percy by Steevens. See Reliques,
ed. 1794, vol. i. p. 189. There is a more correct copy in Mr.
Evans's Old Ballads, vol. i. p. 7, ed. 1810.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 227
Ham. Nay, that follows not.
Pol. What follows then, my lord?
Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot, and then, you
know, It came to pass, As most like it was, — The
first row of the pious chanson53 will show you
more; for look, my abridgment54 comes.
Enter Four or Five Players.
Your are welcome, masters; welcome, all: — I am
glad to see thee well : — welcome, good friends. —
O, old friend ! Why, thy face is valanced55 since I
saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Den-
mark?— What! my young lady and mistress!
By-'r-lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven, than
when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine56.
53 Pons chanson is the reading of the first folio; three of the
quartos read pious; and the newly discovered quarto of 1603,
• the godly ballad ;' which puts an end to controversy upon the
subject. The first row is the first column. Every one is ac-
quainted with the form of these old carols and ballads.
34 The folio reads, ' abridgments come.' My abridgment, i. e
who come to abridge my talk.
55 i. e. fringed with a beard.
56 A chopine, a kind of high shoe, or rather clog, worn by the
Spanish and Italian ladies, and adopted at one time as a fashion
by the English. Coriate describes those worn by the Venetians
as some of them ' half a yard high.' Bulwer,
in his Artificial Changeling, complains of this
fashion, as a monstrous affectation, ' wherein oar
ladies imitate the Venetian and Persian ladies.'
That the fashion was originally of oriental origin
seems very probable : there is a figure of a
Turkish lady with chopines in Sandy's Travels ;
and another of a Venetian courtesan in the Ha-
biti Antichi, &c. di Cesare Vecellio. The an-
nexed cut is reduced from one in Mr. Douce's
Illustrations, copied from a real Venetian chopine.
Chapin is the Spanish name ; and Cobarruvias countenances
honest Tom Coriate's account of the preposterous height to
which some ladies carried them. He tells an old tale of their
being invented to prevent women's gadding, being first made of
wood, and very heavy; and that the ingenuity of the women
228 HAMLET, ACT II.
'Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent
gold, be not cracked within the ring57. — Masters,
you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French
falconers, fly at any thing we see: We'll have a
speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your
quality ; come, a passionate speech.
1 Play. What speech, my lord?
Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, —
but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above
once: for the play, I remember, pleased not the
million58; 'twas caviare to the general59: but it
was (as I received it, and others, whose judgments,
in such matters, cried in the top of mine), an excel-
lent play: well digested in the scenes, set down
with as much modesty as cunning. I remember,
overcame this inconvenience by substituting cork. Though they
are mentioned under the name of cioppini by those who saw
them in use in Venice, the dictionaries record them under the
title of zoccoli. Cobbaravias asserts that they were made of
zapino (deal) in Italy, and not of cork ; and hence their name.
But the Spanish doctors differ about the etymology. Perhaps
Hamlet may have some allusion to the boy having grown so as
to fill the place of a tragedy heroine, and so assumed the cothur-
nus ; which Puttenham described as ' high corked shoes, or
pantofles, which now they call in Spaine and Italy shoppini.'
57 The old gold coin was thin and liable to crack. There was
a ring or circle on it, within which the sovereign's head, &c.
was placed ; if the crack extended beyond this ring, it was ren-
dered uncurrent: it was therefore a simile applied to any other
debased or injured object. There is some humour in applying
it to a cracked voice.
58 The quarto of 1603 vulgar.
59 ' 'Twas caviare to the general.' Caviare is said to be the
pickled roes of certain fish of the sturgeon kind, called in Italy
caviale, and much used there and in other Catholic countries.
Great quantities were prepared on the river Volga formerly.
As a dish of high seasoning and peculiar flavour it was not
relished by the many, i. e. the general. A fantastic fellow,
described in Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, is said to be learning
to eat macaroni, periwinkles, French beans, and caviare, ami
pretending to like them.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 229
one said, there were no sallets in the lines60, to
make the matter savoury: nor no matter in the
phrase, that might indite the author of affection61;
but called it, an honest method, as wholesome as
sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine.
One speech in it I chiefly loved : 'twas iEneas' tale
to Dido ; and thereabout of it especially, where he
speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your me-
mory, begin at this line ; let me see, let me see ; —
The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast, —
'tis not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus.
The rugged Pyr?*hus, — he, whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble,
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
60 ' There were no sallets in the lines.' The force of this
phrase will appear from the following passage, cited by Stee-
vens, from A Banquet of Jests, 1665 : — ' For junkets joci, and
for sallets sales.' ' Sal. Salte, a pleasante and mery word, that
inaketh folke to laugh, and sometimes pricketh.' — Baret.
61 i. e. impeach the author with affectation in his style. In
Love's Labour's Lost, Nathaniel tells the Pedant that his reasons
have been ' witty without affection.' In the Preface to George
Chapman's Banquet of Sence, 1595, ' obscuritie in affection of
words and indigested conceits is pedanticall and childish.' The
folio indeed reads affectation. The poet has probably put into
the mouth of Hamlet his own genuine opinion of this speech,
and the play from whence it was derived ; whether it was one
of his own juvenile performances, or one of those inform dramas
which he had polished, it is now vain to inquire. There are
words and passages which were evidently coined in his mint.
Schlegel considers it as one example of the many niceties of
Shakspeare which have never been understood. He observes,
that 'this speech must not be judged by itself, but in connexion
with the place where it is introduced. To distinguish it as
dramatic poetry in the play itself, it was necessary that it should
rise above the dignified poetry of that in the same proportion
that the theatrical elevation does above simple nature. Hence
Shakspeare has composed the play in Hamlet altogether in sen-
tentious rhymes, full of antithesis. But this solemn and mea-
sured tone did not suit a speech in which violent emotion ought
to prevail ; and the poet had no other expedient than the one of
which he made use, overcharging the pathos.'
230 HAMLET, ACT II.
Hath now his dread and black complexion smear' d
With heraldry more dismal; liead to foot
Now he is total gules; horridly trick' dm
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons;
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
To their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, and fire,
And thus o'er -sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks; — So proceed you.
Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken ; with
good accent, and good discretion.
1 Play. Anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match' d,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base ; and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear : for, lo ! his sword
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But, as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack 63 stand still,
62 Guks, i. e. red, in the language of heraldry : to trick is to
colour.
' With man's blood paint the ground; gules, gules.'
Timon of Athens.
63 The rack is the clouds, formed by vaporous exhalation.
Johnson has chosen this passage and one in Diyden of the same
import to exemplify the word which he explains, ' the clouds
as they are driven by the winds.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 231
The bold winds speechless frl, and the orb below
As hush as death: anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region : So, after Pyrrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new a work ;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars 's armour, f org' d for proof eterne
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam. —
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod, take away your power ;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!
Pol. This is too long.
Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard. —
'Pr'ythee, say on : — He's for a jig65, or a tale of
bawdry, or he sleeps : — say on : come to Hecuba.
1 Play. But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled66
queen
64 ' Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth.'
Venus and Adonis.
65 • He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry.' Giga, in Italian, was
a fiddle, or crowd; gigaro, a fiddler, or minstrel. Hence a jig
(first written gigge, though pronounced with g soft, after the
Italian), was a ballad, or ditty, sung to the fiddle. ' Frottola, a
counlrie gigge, or round, or country song or wanton verse.' As
these itinerant minstrels proceeded, they made it a kind of far-
cical dialogue ; and at length it came to signify a short merry
interlude: — ' Farce, the jigg at the end of an enterlude, wherein
some pretie knaverie is acted.' There are several of the old
ballads and dialogues called Jigs in the Harleian Collection.
Thus, also in The Fatal Contract, by Hemings : —
i we'll hear your jigg,
How is your ballad titled.'
66 The folio reads inobled, an evident error of the press ; for
tnobled, which means muffled. The queen is represented with
* a clout upon her head and a blanket wrapt round her, caught
up in the alarm of fear.' We have the word in Ogilby's Fa-
bles : —
' Mobbled nine days in my considering cap.'
And in Shirley's Gentleman of Venice : —
1 The moon doth mobble up herself.'
232 HAMLET, ACT II.
Ham. The mobled queen?
Pol. That's good; mobled queen is good.
1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threatening
the flames
With bisson67 rheum; a clout upon that head,
Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe,
A bout her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up ;
Who this had seen, ivith tongue in venom steep d,
'Gainst foi'tune's state would treason have pro-
nounc'd:
But if the gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs ;
The instant burst of clamour that she made
( Unless things mortal move them not at all),
Would have made milch 68 the burning eye of heaven,
And passion in the gods.
Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour,
and has tears in's eyes69. — 'Pr'ythee, no more.
67 Bisson is blind; brpen. A. S. Bisson rheum is therefore
blinding tears. In Coriolanus we have, ' Bisson conspecuities.'
68 ' Would have made milch the burning eye of heaven.' By
a hardy poetical licence this expression means, ' Would have
filled with tears the burning eye of heaven.' We have ' Lemo-
sus, miYc/i-hearted,' in Huloet's and in Lyttleton's Dictionaries ;
and Eliot renders lemosi ' those that weepe lightly.' It is re-
markable that, in old Italian, lattuoso is used for Iwttuoso, in
the same metaphorical manner. To have ' made passion in the
Gods' would have been to move them to sympathy or compassion.
68 ' The plays of Shakspeare, by their own power, must have
given a different turn to acting, and almost new-created the per-
formers of his age. Mysteries, moralities, and interludes afford-
ed no materials for art to work on, no discriminations of character,
or varieties of appropriated language. From tragedies like Cam-
byses, Tamburlaine, and Jeronymo, nature was wholly banished;
and the comedies of Gammer Gurton, Conion Condycyons, and
The Old Wives Tale, might have had justice done to them by the
lowest order of human beings.
' Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius alta1, was wanting
when the dramas of Shakspeare made their first appearance ;
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 233
Ham. Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the
rest of this soon. — Good my lord, will you see the
players well bestowed ? Do you hear, let them be
well used ; for they are the abstract, and brief chro-
nicles, of the time : After your death you were bet-
ter have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while
you live.
Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their
desert.
Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better: Use
every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape
whipping? Use them after your own honour and
dignity : The less they deserve, the more merit is in
your bounty. Take them in.
Pol. Come, sirs.
[Exit Polonius, with some of the Players.
Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-
morrow.— Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you
play the murder of Gonzago ?
1 Play. Ay, my lord.
Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could,
for a need, study a speech of some dozen or six-
teen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't?
could you not?
1 Play. Ay, my lord.
Ham. Very well. — Follow that lord; and look
you mock him not. [Exit Player.] My good friends
[To Ros. and Guil.] I'll leave you till night: you
are welcome to Elsinore.
Ros. Good my lord '.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
and to these we were certainly indebted for the excellent actors
who could never have improved so long as their sensibilities
were unawakened, their memories burthened only by pedantic
or puritanical declamation, and their manners vulgarised by
pleasantry of as low an origin.' — Steevens.
VOL. X. Y
234 HAMLET, ACT II.
Ham. Ay, so, good bye to you : — Now I am alone.
O what a rogue and peasant slave am I !
Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working, all his visage wann'd70;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing !
For Hecuba !
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her ? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue71 for passion,
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John a-dreams72, unpregnant of my cause,
70 The folio reads warned, which reading Steevens contended
for : he was probably moved by a spirit of opposition ; for surely
no one can doubt, who considers the context, that wann'd is tbe
poet's word. Indeed I question whether his visage warmd, for
his face suffused, would have entered into the mind of a writer,
or the comprehension of a reader or auditor in Shakspeare's
time.
71 i. e. the hint or prompt word, a technical phrase among
players ; it is the word or sign given by the prompter for a
player to enter on his part, to begin to speak or act. ' A
prompter (says Florio), one who keepes the booke for the
plaiers, and teacheth them, or schollers their hue,' i. e. their
part ; and this will explain why it is used in other places, as in
Othello, for part : —
• Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter,' '
72 John a dreams, or John a droynes, was a common term for
any dreaming or droning simpleton. There is a story told of one
John a droynes, a Suffolk simpleton, who played the Devil in a
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 235
And can say nothing ; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property, and most dear life,
A damn'd defeat73 was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i'the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha!
Why, I should take it: for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this,
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless 74
villain !
Why, what an ass am I ? This is most brave ;
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd75,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing like a very drab,
A scullion!
stage play, in the Hundred Merry Tales. And there is another
foolish character of that name in "Whetstone's Promos and Cas-
sandra. Unpregnant is not quickened or properly impressed
with.
73 Defeat here signifies destruction. It was frequently used
in the sense of undo or take away hy our old writers. Thus
Chapman in his Revenge for Honour : —
' That he might meantime make a sure defeat
On our good aged father's life.'
74 Kindless is unnatural.
75 The first folio reads thus : —
* Oh vengeance !
Who? What an ass am I? I sure this is most brave,
That I the sonne of the Deere murthered.'
The quarto of 1604 omits ' Oh vengeance,' and reads, " a deere
murthered.' The quarto of 1603, ' that I the son of my dear
father.'
230 HAMLET, ACT II.
Fye upon't! foh! About my brains76! Humph! I
have heard,
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play77,
Have, by the very cunning of the scene,
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle ; I'll observe his looks ;
I'll tent him78 to the quick; if he do blench79,
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,
May be a devil : and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy
(As he is very potent with such spirits),
Abuses me to damn me : I'll have grounds
More relative80 than this : The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
[Exit.
76 It seems extraordinary that Mason and Steevens could evei
conceive that there was any allusion here to the nautical phrase
about skip. ' About my brains' is nothing more than ' to uorl
my brains.' The common phrase, to go about a thing, is not ye'
obsolete. Falstaff humours the equivocal use of the word ii
The Merry Wives of Windsor : — ' No quips now, Pislol ; indeet
I am in the waist too yards about ; but I am now about m
waste ; I am about thrift.' Steevens's quotation from Hey
wood's Iron Age should have taught him better : —
• My brain about again ! for thou hast found
New projects now to work on,'
77 A number of instances of the kind are collected by Thoma
Heywood in his Apology for Actors.
78 To tent was to probe, to search a wound.
79 To blench is to shrink or start. Vide Winter's Tale, Acti
Sc. 2, p. 21.
80 i.e. more near, more immediately connected. The firs
quarto reads, ' I will have sounder proofs.'
PRINCE OF DENMARK. 237
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Room in the Castle.
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Ro-
SENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.
King. And can you, by no drift of conference *
Get from him why he puts on this confusion ;
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ?
Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted ;
But from what cause he will by no means speak.
Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded ;
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.
Quei J. Did he receive you well ?
Ros. Most like a gentleman.
Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition.
Ros. Niggard of question ; but, of our demands,
Most free in his reply 2.
Queen. Did you assay him
To any pastime?
Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We o'er-raught3 on the way : of these we told him;
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it : They are about the court ;
And, as I think, they have already order
This night to play before him.
1 Folio — circumstance.
2 ' Slow to begin conversation, but free enough in answering
our demands.'
3 i. e. reached, overtook. /
Y2
238 ' HAMLET, ACT III.
Pol. Tis most true :
And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties,
To hear and see the matter.
King. With all my heart; and it doth much con-
tent me
To hear him so inclin'd.
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose on to these delights.
Ros. We shall, my lord.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too :
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront4 Ophelia:
Her father, and myself (lawful espials5),
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge ;
And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
If 't be the affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.
Queen. I shall obey you:
And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish,
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness : so shall I hope, your virtues
Will bring him to his wonted way again,
To both your honours.
Oph. Madam, I wish it may.
[Exit Queen.
Pol. Ophelia, walk you here: — Gracious, so
please you,
4 i. e. meet her, encounter her ; affrontare, Ital. See Winter's
Tale, Act v. Sc. 1, vol iv. p. 109.
5 [Lawful espials ;] that is, lawful spies. An espiall in warres.
a scoutwatche, a beholder, a viewer.' — Buret. See King Henn
V ! . Part I. Act i. Sc. 4, p. 20. An espy was also in use for a
Tiie two words are only found in the folio.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 239
We will bestow 6 ourselves : — Read on this book ;
[To Ophelia.
That show of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness7. — We are oft to blame in this, —
Tis too much prov'd, — that, with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
King. O, 'tis too true! how smart
A lash that speech doth give my conscience !
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word :
0 heavy burden ! [Aside,
Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and Polo n i us.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham To be, or not to be, that is the question : —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them ? — To die, — to sleep, —
No more; — and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; — to sleep; —
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the rub ;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil 8, ,
6 [Bestow ourselves] is here used for hide or place ourselves.
W e have the word in the same sense in a subsequent scene : —
' "Where the dead body is bestoivd, my lord,
We cannot get from him.'
We now use stoiv. One of our old dictionaries makes a discri-
mination between the acceptations of this word, thus : — ' To
bestow, or lay out; to bestow, or give; to bestoiv, or place.'
7 Quarto — lowliness.
8 [This mortal coil ;] that is, ' the tumult and bustle of this
240 HAMLET, ACT III.
Must give us pause: There's the respect9,
That makes calamity of so long life :
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time i0,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely u,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus 12 make
With a bare bodkin 13 ? who would fardels 14 bear,
To grunt15 and sweat under a weary life;
life.' It is remarkable that under garbuglio, which has the same
meaning in Italian as our coil, Florio has ' a pecke of troubles;'
of which Shakspeare's ' sea of troubles' in only an aggrandized
idea.
9 i. e. the consideration. This is Shakspeare's most usual sense
of the word.
10 Time, for the time, is a very usual expression with our ol
writers. Thus in Ben Jonson's Every Man Out of his Humour
1 Oh, how I hate the monstrousness of time.'1
In Cardanus Comfort, by Thomas Bedingfield, 1599, is a d
scription of the miseries of life strongly resembling that in the
text : — ' Hunger, thirste, sleape not plentiful or quiet as deade
men have, heate in somer, colde in winter, disorder of tyme, ter-
roure of warres, controlment of parents, cares of wedlocke,
studye for children, slouthe ofservaunts, contention of sutes, and
that which is most of all, the condycyon of tyme wherein honestye
is disdayned as folye, and crafte is honoured as wisdome.'
11 Folio — ' the poor man's contumely.'
13 The allusion is to the term qtiietus est, used in settling ac-
counts at exchequer audits. Thus Webster in his Dutchess of
Malfy:—
1 You had the trick in audit time to be sick,
Till I had sign'd your quietus'
And, more appositely, in Sir Thomas Overbury's character of a
Franklin : — ' Lastly to end him, he cares not when his end conies ;
he needs not feare his audit, for his quietus is in heaven.'
13 ' Bodkin was the ancient term for a small dagger.' Vide
note on Actiii. Sc. 2, p. 25 lv
14 Packs, burdens.
15 Though to grunt has been degraded in modern language, it
appears to have conveyed no vulgar or low image to the ear of
our ancestors, as many quotations from the old translations of
the classics would show. ' Loke that the places about thee be
:
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 241
But that the dread of something after death, —
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn l6
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all17 ;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith 18 and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry19,
And lose the name of action. — Soft you, now !
The fair Ophelia: — Nymph, in thy orisons20
Be all my sins remember'd.
Oph. Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day ?
so in silence that thy corage and mynde gronte nor groudge nat/
Payne! s Translation of Erasmus de Contempt. Mundi. The fact
seems to be, that to groan and to grunt were convertible terras.
' Swyne wode for love groyneth.' — Horman's Vulgaria. And
Chaucer in The Monk's Tale : —
' But never gront he at no stroke but on.'
16 Mr. Douce points out the following passages in Cranmer's
Bible, which may have been in Shakspeare's mind : — ' Afore I
goe thither, from whence I shall not turne agaitte, even to '.the
lande of darkness, and shadowe of death ; yea into that darke
cloudie lande and deadly shadow- whereas is no order, but terri-
ble feare as in the darknesse.' — Job, c. x. ' The way that I must
goe is at hande, but whence I shall not turne againe.' — lb. c. xvi.
• Weep not for Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and as a traveller
Goes to discover countries yet unknown."
Marlowe's King Edward II.
17 ' I'll not meddle with it, — it makes a man a coward.' — King
Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4. And again : —
1 O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me.'
lb. Act v. Sc. 3.
18 Quartos — pitch. 19 Folio — aivay.
20 ' This is a touch of nature. Hamlet, at the sight of Ophelia,
does not immediately recollect that he is to personate madness,
but makes an address grave and solemn, such as the foregoing
meditation excited in his thoughts.' — Johnson.
242 HAMLET, ACT III.
Ham. I humbly thank you ; well.
Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver;
I pray you, now receive them.
Ham. No, not I ;
I never gave you aught.
Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well,
you did :
And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd
As made the things more rich : their perfume lost,
Take these again ; for to the noble mind,
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Ham. Ha, ha ! are you honest ?
Oph. My lord?
Ham. Are you fair?
Oph. What means your lordship ?
Ham. That if you be honest, and fair, your ho-
nesty should admit no discourse to your beauty 21.
Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better com-
merce than with honesty ?
Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will
sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd,
than the force of honesty can translate beauty into
his likeness; this was some time a paradox, but
now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
Ham. You should not have believed me; for
virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we
shall relish of it : I loved you not.
Oph. I was the more deceived.
Ham. Get thee to a nunnery; Why would'st
21 i. e. ' your honesty should not admit your beauty to any
discourse with her.' The first quarto reads: — ' Your beauty
should admit no discourse to your honesty.' That of 1604 : —
• You should admit no discourse to your beauty.'
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 243
thou be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indif-
ferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such
things, that it were better, my mother had not
borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambiti-
ous ; with more offences at my beck, than I have
thoughts to put them in 22, imagination to give them
shape, or time to act them in; What should such
fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven !
We are arrant knaves, all ; believe none of us : Go
thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?
Oph. At home, my lord.
Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him ; that he
may play the fool no where23 but in's own house.
Farewell.
Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens !
Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this
plague for thy dowry ; Be thou as chaste as ice,
as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
Get thee to a nunnery; farewell24: Or, if thou
wilt needs marry, marry a fool ; for wise men know
well enough, what monsters you make of them. To
a nunnery, go ; and quickly too. Farewell.
Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him!
Ham. 1 have heard of your paintings 25 too, well
enough; God hath given you one face, and you
make yourselves another : you jig, you amble, and
you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make
your wantonness your ignorance26; Goto; I'll no
more of it: it hath made me mad. I say, we will
have no more marriages: those that are married
1 [Than I have thoughts to put them in.] To put • a thing
■to thought' is ' to think on it.'
23 Folio— way. 24 Folio— Go, farewell.
25 The folio, for paintings, has prattlings; and for face has
iace.
' You mistake hy wanton affectation, and pretend to mistake
)V iynorance.'
244 HAMLET, ACT III.
already, all but one, shall live ; the rest shall keep
as they are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit Hamlet.
Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown !
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword :
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form27,
The observ'd of all observers ! quite, quite down !
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his musick vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune28 and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy29: O, woe is me!
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !
Re-enter King arid Polonius.
King. Love ! his affections do not that way tend I
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul
O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
And, I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose30,
Will be some danger : Which for to prevent,
I have, in quick determination',
Thus set it down ; He shall with speed to England
For the demand of our neglected tribute :
Haply, the seas, and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expel
27 ' Speculum consuetudinis.' — Cicero. The model by whoi
■all endeavoured to form themselves.
28 Quarto — time.
29 Ecstasy is alienation of mind. Vide the Tempest, Act ii
Sc. 3.
30 To disclose was the ancient term for hatching birds of an
kind ; from the Fr. esclos, and that from the Lat. exclusus. I b<
lieve to exclude is now the technical term. Thus in the Boke <
St. Albans, ed. 1496 : — • For to speke of hawkes ; Fjrst tht
hen egges, and afterwarde they ben dysclosed hawkys.' Ai
' comynly goshawkes ben disclosyd assoone as the choughs.'
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 245
This something-settled matter in his heart;
Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't ?
Pol. It shall do well: But yet, I do believe,
The origin and commencement of his grief
Sprung from neglected love. — How now, Ophelia ?
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet said;
We heard it all. — My lord, do as you please ;
But, if you hold it fit after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat hini
To show his grief; let her be round31 with him ;
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference : If she find him not,
To England send him ; or confine him, where
Your wisdom best shall think.
King. It shall be so :
Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Hall in the same.
Enter Hamlet, and certain Players.
Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pro-
nounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if
i you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as
lief the town crier spoke my lines1. Nor do not
saw the air too much with your hand, thus ; but use
all gently : for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as
I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must
acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it
smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear
31 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2.
1 ' Have you never seen a stalking stamping player, that will
raise a tempest with his tongue, and thunder with his heels.' — The
Puritan, a Comedy. The first quarto has, ' I'd rather hear a
town-bull bellow, than such a fellow speak my lines.'
VOL. X. Z
246 HAMLET, ACT III.
a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the ground-
lings 2 : who, for the most part, are capable of
nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise:
I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing
Termagant3; it out-herods Herod: 'Pray you,
avoid it.
2 The first quarto reads, ' of the ignorant.' Our ancient the-
atres were far from the commodious elegant structures which
later times have seen. The pit was, truly what its name denotes,
an unfloored space in the area of the house, sunk considerably
beneath the level of the stage; and, by ancient representations,
one may judge that it was necessary to elevate the head very
much to get a view of the performance. Hence this part of the
audience were called groundlings. Jonson, in the Induction to
Bartholomew Fair, calls them • the understanding gentlemen of
the ground;' and Shirley, ' grave understanders'
' No shows, no dance, and what you most delight in,
Grave under standers, here's no target-fighting.'
Sir W. Cornwallis calls the ignorant earthlings. ' I have not
been ashamed to adventure mine eares with a ballad-singer,—
the profit to see earthlings satisfied with such coarse stuffe,' &c. —
Essay 15, ed. 1G23.
3 Termagaunt is the name given in old romances to the tem-
pestuous god of the Saracens. He is usually joined with Ma~
hound or Mahomet. Hall mentions him in his first Satire : —
Nor fright the reader with the Pagan vaunt
Of mighty Mahound and great Termagaunt.'
Dr. Percy and Dr. Johnson, misled by the etymology given
by Junius, have made a Saracen divinity of Termagant ; and
Mr. Gifford inclines to this opinion in a note on Massinger's
Renegado, Act i. Sc. 1. It appears more probable that our old
writers borrowed it from the Tervagant of the French, or the
Trivigante of the Italian Romances. A learned foreigner has
said, ' Trivigante, whom the predecessors of Ariosto always
couple with Appolino, is really Diana Trivia, the sister of the
classical Apollo, whose worship, and the lunar sacrifices which
it demanded, had been always preserved among the Scythians.'
Quarterly Review, vol. xxi. p. 515. — May we not rather imagine
that the Hermes Trismegistus is the deity meant ; for Trime-
gisto and Terraegisto are also names of this Termagaunt?
Davenant has given the same etymology of Termagant, Ter
mag mts, i. e. Tpiapeyiarog. And resolute John Florio calls him
' Termigisto, a great boaster, quareller, killer, tamer or ruler of
the universe; the child of the earthquake and of the thunder,
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 247
1 Play. I warrant your honour.
Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own
discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the
word, the word to the action : with this special
observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of
nature : for any thing so overdone is from the pur-
pose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and
now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirrour up
to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn
her own image, and the very age and body of the
time, his form and pressure4. Now this, overdone,
or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
censure of which one, must, in your allowance5,
o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
players, that I have seen play, — and heard others
praise, and that highly, — not to speak it profanely,
that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor
the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some
of nature's journeymen had made men, and not
made them well, they imitated humanity so abomi-
nably.
1 Play. I hope, we have reformed that indiffer-
ently with us.
Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those,
that play your clowns, speak no more than is set
the brother of death.' — World of Words, 1611. Hence this per-
sonage was introduced into the old mysteries and moralities as
a demon of outrageous and violent demeanour ; or as Bale says,
' Termagauntes altogether, and very devils incarnate :' and again,
1 this terrible Termagaunt, this Nero, this Pharaoh.' A tyrant
was always ' a part to tear a cat in.' — The murder of the inno-
cents was a favourite subject for a mystery ; and wherever Herod
is introduced, he plays the part of a vaunting braggart, a tyrant
of tyrants, and does indeed outdo Termagant.
4 Pressure is impression, resemblance.
5 i. e. approval, estimation. "Vide King Lear, Act ii. Sc. 4.
248 HAMLET, ACT III.
down for them: for there be of them, that will
themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren
spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time,
some necessary question6 of the play be then to be
considered : that's villanous ; and shows a most
pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make
you ready. — [Exeunt Players.
Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guil-
DENSTERN.
How now, my lord ? will the king hear this piece
of work ?
Pol. And the queen too, and that presently.
Ham. Bid the players make haste. —
[Exit Polonius.
Will you two help to hasten them?
Both. Ay, my lord.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz o?^Guildenstern.
Ham. What, ho ; Horatio !
Enter Horatio.
Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
Hor. O, my dear lord,
Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter
6 The quarto, 1603, « Point in the the play then to he observed.
Afterwards is added, ' And then you have some again that keep.'
one suit of jests, as a man is known hy one suit of apparel ; anr
gentlemen quotes his jests down in their tables before they com*
to the play, as thus : — Cannot you stay till I eat my porridge ; anc
you owe me a quarter's wages; and your beer is sour; and blab
bering with his lips: And thus keeping in his cinque a pace oi
jests ; when, God knows, the warme Clown cannot make a jes
unless by chance, as the blind man catcheth a hare : Masters
tell him of it.' — This passage was evidently levelled at the par
ticular folly of some injudicious player contemporary with th<
poet.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 249
Por what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,
To feed, and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be
flatter'd?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ;
And crook the pregnant7 hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish her election,
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks ; and bless'd are those,
Whose blood and judgment8 are so well co-mingled9,
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please : Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee. — Something too much of this. —
There is a play to-night before the king ;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
Which I have told thee of my father's death.
I pr'ythee, when thou seest that act afoot,
Even with the very comment of thy soul
Observe my uncle : if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ;
And my imaginations are as foul
As Vulcan's stithy10. Give him heedful note:
7 Pregnant, quick, ready.
8 ' According to the doctrine of the four humours, desire and
confidence were seated in the blood, and judgment in the phlegm,
and the due mixtures of the humours made a perfect character.'
Johnsan.
9 Quarto, 1604 — • co-medled.'
10 Vulcan's stithy is Vulcan's workshop or smithy ; stith being
an anvil.
z2
250 HAMLET, ACT III.
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face u ;
And, after, we will both our judgments join
In censure 12 of his seeming.
Hor. Well, my lord :
If he steal aught, the whilst this play is playing,
And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
Ham. They are coming to the play ; I must be idle :
Get you a place.
Danish March. A Flourish. Enter King, Queen,
Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guil-
den stern, and Others.
King. How fares our cousin Hamlet?
Ham. Excellent, i'faith; of the chameleon's dish :
I eat the air, promise-crammed; You cannot feed
capons so.
King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet;
these words are not mine.
Ham. No, nor mine now. My lord, — you played
once in the university, you say? [To Polonius.
Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted a
good actor.
Ham. And what did you enact?
Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed
i' the Capitol ; Brutus killed me 13.
11 Here the first quarto has : —
' And if he do not blench and change at that,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;
Horatio, have a care, observe him well.
Hor. My lord, mine eyes shall still be on his face,
And not the smallest alteration
That shall appear in him, but I shall note it.'
12 i. e. judgment, opinion.
13 A Latin play on the subject of Caesar's death was perform-
ed at Christ Church, iu Oxford, in 1582. Malone thinks thai
there was an English play on the same subject previous to Shak-
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 251
Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill so capi-
tal a calf there. — Be the players ready ?
Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay14 upon your pati-
ence.
Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
Ham. No, good mother, here's metal more at-
tractive.
Pol. O ho ! do you mark that ? [ To the King.
Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at Ophelia's Feet.
Oph. No, my lord.
Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?
Oph. Ay, my lord.
Ham. Do you think, I meant contray15 matters?
Oph. I think nothing, my lord.
Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids'
legs.
Oph. What is, my lord ?
Ham. Nothing.
Oph. You are merry, my lord.
Ham. Who, I?
speare's. Caesar was killed in Pompey's portico, and not in the
Capitol : bat the error is at least as old as Chaucer's time.
This Julius to the Capitolie wente
Upon a day, that he was wont to gon,
And in the Capitolie anon him hente
This false Brutus and his other soon,
And sticked him with bodekins anon
With many a wound,' &c.
Chaucer 's Monies Tale, v. 14C21.
I have cited this passage to show that Chaucer uses bodkin for
logger, like Shakspeare. See p. 240.
14 i. e. ' they wait upon your sufferance or will.' Johnson would
have changed the word to pleasure; but Shakspeare has again
used it in a similar sense in The Two Gentlemen of Verona,
Act iii. Sc. 1 : —
And think my patience more than thy desert
Is privilege for thy departure hence.'
15 This is the reading of the quarto 1603. The quarto 1604
and the folio read country.
I
252 HAMLET, ACT III.
Oph. Ay, my lord.
Ham. 0! your only jig-maker16. What should
a man do, but be merry? for, look you, how cheer-
fully my mother looks, and my father died within
these two hours.
Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
Ham. So long? Nay, then let the devil we
black, for I'll have a suit of sables17. O heavens
die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? The
there's hope, a great man's memory may outliv
his life half a year: But, by'r-lady, he must build
churches then : or else shall he suffer not thinking
on, with the hobby-horse 18; whose epitaph is, For,
0,for, 0, the hobby-horse is forgot.
16 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2, p. 231. It may here be added
that a jig sometimes signified a spritelj dance, as at present. In
addition to the examples before given, take the following from
Ford's Love's Sacrifice : — ' O Giacopo ! Petrarch was a dunce,
Dante a. jig-maker, Sannazar a goose, and Ariosto a puck-first to
me.' — Act ii. Sc. 2.
17 i. e. a dress, ornamented with the rich fur of that name,
said to be the skin of the sable martin. By the statute of ap-
parel, 24 Hen. VIII. c. 13, it is ordained that none under the
degree of an earl may use sables. Bishop, in his Blossoms,
1577, speaking of extravagance, says, that a thousand ducates
were sometimes given for a face of sables. But Hamlet meant
to use the word equivocally.
18 The hobby-lwrse, whose omission in the morris dance is so
pathetically lamented in many of our old dramas, in the very
words which Hamlet calls his epitaph, was long a distinguished
favourite in the May Games. He was driven from bis station
by the Puritans, as an impious and Pagan superstition ; but
restored after the promulgation of the Book of Sports. The
hobby-lwrse was formed of a pasteboard horse's head, and pro-
bably a light frame made of wicker-work to form the hinder
parts ; this was fastened round the body of a man, and covered
with a footcloth, which nearly reached the ground, and con-
cealed the legs of the performer ; who displayed his antic eques-
trian skill, and performed various juggling tricks, wigh-hie-ing
or neighing, to the no small delight of the bystanders.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 253
Trumpets sound. The Dumb Show19 follows.
Enter a King and a Queen, very lovingly: the
Queen embracing him, and he her. She kneels,
and makes show of protestation unto him. He
takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck :
lays him down upon a bank of flowers; she, see-
ing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a
Fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours
poison in the King's ears, and exit. The Queen
returns; finds the King dead, and makes pas-
sionate action. The Poisonei', with some two or
three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament
with her. The dead body is carried away. The
Poisoner woos the Queen with gifts ; she seems
loath and unwilling awhile; but, in the end, ac-
cepts his love. [Exeunt.
Oph. What means this, my lord ?
Ham. Marry, this is miching malicho20; it means
mischief.
Oph. Belike, this show imports the argument of
the play.
Enter Prologue.
Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the players
cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all.
19 This dumb show appears to be superfluous, and even incon-
gruous ; for as the murder is there circumstantially represented,
the King ought to have been struck with it then, without wait-
ing for the dialogue.
20 Miching malicho is lurking mischief, or evil doing. To
mich, for to skulk, to lurk, was an old English verb in common
use in Shakspeare's time ; and malicho or malhecho, misdeed, he
has borrowed from the Spanish. Many stray words of Spanish
and Italian were then affectedly used in common conversation,
as we have seen French used in more recent times. The quarto
spells the word mallico. Our ancestors were not particular in
orthography, and often spelt according to the ear.
k
254 HAMLET, ACT III.
Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant ?
Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him:
Be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to
tell you what it means21.
Oph. You are naught, you are naught ; I'll mark
the play.
Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
Oph. Tis brief, my lord,
Ham. As woman's love.
Enter a King and a Queen.
P. King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart2
gone round
Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground ;
And thirty dozen moons, with borrow'd sheen,
About the world have times twelve thirties been ;
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
21 The conversation with Ophelia, as Steevens remarks, can-
not fail to disgust every modern reader. It was no doubt such
as was current in society in that age, which had not yet learnt
to throw a veil of decency over corrupt manners. Yet still I
think that such discourse would not have been put into the mouth
of Hamlet by the poet, had he not meant it to mark the feigned
madness of Hamlet the stronger from its inconsistence with his
character as a prince and polished gentleman.
22 Cart, car, or chariot, were used indiscriminately for any
carriage formerly. Mr. Todd has adduced the following passage
from the Comical History of Alphonsus, by R. G. 1599, which,
he thinks, Shakspeare meant to burlesque : —
' Thrice ten times Phoebus with his golden beames
Hath compassed the circle of the skie ;
Thrice ten times Ceres hath her workemen hir'd,
And fill'd herbarnes with fruteful crops of corne,
Since first in priesthood I did lead my life.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 255
P. Queen. So many journeys may the sun and
moon
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done I
But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
So far from cheer, and from your former state,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must :
For women fear too much, even as they love 23 ;
And women's fear and love hold quantity ;
[n neither aught, or in extremity.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know ;
And as my love is siz'd 24, my fear is so.
W here love is great, the littlest doubts are fear ;
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
P. King. 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and
shortly too ;
My operant25 powers their functions leave to do;
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd ; and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou
P. Queen. O, confound the rest!
•«»uch love must needs be treason in my breast;
[n second husband let me be accurst !
NTone wed the second, but who kilPd the first.
Ham. That's wormwood.
P. Queen. The instances 26, that second marriage
move,
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love ;
23 This line is omitted in the folio. There appears to have
jeen a line omitted in the quarto which should have rhymed to
his.
24 Cleopatra expresses herself much in the same manner for
:he loss of Antony : —
' our size of sorrow
Proportioned to our cause, must be as great
As that which makes it.'
25 i. e. active.
26 Instances are motives. See note on King Richard III.
\ct iii. Sc.2, p. 78.
256 HAMLET, ACT III.
A second time I kill my husband dead,
When second husband kisses me in bed.
P. King. I do believe, you think what now you
speak ;
But, what we do determine oft we break.
Purpose is but the slave to memory 2T ;
Of violent birth, but poor validity :
Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree ;
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt :
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures 28 with themselves destroy ;
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye; nor 'tis not strange,
That even our loves should with our fortunes change
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend :
For who not needs, shall never lack a friend;
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly seasons29 him his enemy.
But, orderly to end where I begun, —
Our wills and fates, do so contrary run,
27 ' But thought's the slave of life. ,' — King Henry IV. Part 1
28 i. e. their own determinations, what they enact.
29 See note on Act i. Sc. 3, p. 183. ' This quaint phrase (sa'
Steevens), infests almost every ancient English compositioi
Why infests? Surely it is as forcible and intelligible as many oth
metaphorical expressions retained in the language. It has be
remarked that our ancestors were much better judges of tl
powers of language than we are. The Latin writers did
scruple to apply their verb condire in the same manner.
;
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 257
That our devices still are overthrown ;
)ur thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
>o think thou wilt no second husband wed ;
3ut die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.
P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven
light!
Sport and repose lock from me, day, and night !
To desperation turn my trust and hope !
Vn anchor's 30 cheer in prison be my scope !
3ach opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
fleet what I would have well, and it destroy !
3oth here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
[ f, once a widow, ever I be wife !
Ham. If she should break it now, [ TbOPH.
P. King. Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me
here a while ;
VTy spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps.
P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain;
\nd never come mischance between us twain !
[Exit.
Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.
King. Have you heard the argument? Is there
10 offence in't?
Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest;
10 offence i'the world.
King. What do you call the play?
Ham. The mouse-trap 31. Marry, how ? Tropi-
30 Anchor's for anchoret's. Thus in Hall's second Satire,
i. iv. : —
• Sit seven years pining in an anchor s cheyre,
To win some patched shreds of minivere.'
31 [The mouse-trap,] i. e.
• the thing
In which he'll catch the conscience of the king.'
VOL. X. A A
258 HAMLET, ACT III.
cally 32. This play is the image of a murder done
in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name33, his wife,
Baptista : you shall see anon ; 'tis a knavish piece
of work : But what of that? your majesty, and we
that have free souls, it touches us not: Let the
galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung. —
Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
Oph. You are as good as a chorus34, my lord.
Ham. I could interpret between you and your
love, if I could see the puppets dallying.
Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off
my edge.
Oph. Still better, and worse.
Ham. So you mistake 35 your husbands. — Begin,
32 First quarto — tropically. It is evident that a pun was in-
tended.
33 [Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife Baptista ;] all the
old copies read thus. Yet in the dumb show we have, ' Enter
a King and Queen ;' and at the end of this speech, ' Lucianus,
nephew to the king.' This seeming inconsistency, however,
may be reconciled. Though the interlude is the image of the
murder of the duke of Vienna, or in other words founded upon
that story, the poet might make the principal person in his fable
a king. Baptista is never used singly by the Italians, being uni-
formly compounded with Giam and Giovanni. It is needless to
remark that it is always the name of a man.
34 The use to which Shakspeare put the chorus may be seen
in King Henry V. Every motion or puppet-show was accompa-
nied by an interpreter or showman. Thus in The Two Gentlemen
of Verona : —
' O excellent motion : O exceeding puppet !
Now will he interpret for her.'
35 The first quarto — ' So you must take your husband.' Ham-
let puns upon the word mistake : ' So you mis-take, or take yom
husbands amiss for better and worse.' The word was often thu>
misused for any thing done wrongfully, and even for privy steal
ing. In one of Bastard's Epigrams, 1598, cited by Steevens—
* none that seeth her face and making
Will judge her stol'n but by mistaking.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 259
murderer; — leave thy damnable faces, and begin.
Come ;
The croaking raven
Doth bellow for revenge.
Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and
time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing ;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds36 collected,
"With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magick and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.
[Pours the Poison into the Sleeper's Ears.
Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his es-
tate. His name's Gonzago: the story is extant,
and written in very choice Italian : You shall see
anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's
wife.
Oph. The king rises.
Ham. What! frighted with false fire !
Queen. How fares my lord?
Pol. Give o'er the play.
King. Give me some light : — away !
Pol. Lights, lights, lights !
[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep37,
The hart ungalled play :
For some must watch, while some must sleep ;
Thus runs the world away. —
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers (if the
rest of my fortunes turn Turk38 with me), with two
36 ' Midnight weeds.' Thus in Macbeth :—
' Root of hemlock, digg'd V the dark.'
37 See note on As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 1, p. 130.
38 To turn Turk was a familiar phrase for any violent change
of condition or character.
260 HAMLET, ACT III.
provincial roses on my razed39 shoes, get me a fel-
lowship in a cry*0 of players, sir?
Hor. Half a share41.
Ham. A whole one, I.
For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very, very — peacock42.
Hor. You might have rhymed.
Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word
for a thousand pound. Didst perceive ?
Hor. Very well, my lord.
Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,
39 [Provincial roses] on my razed shoes.' Provincial was erro-
neously changed to Provencal, at the suggestion of Warton.
Mr. Douce rectified the error by showing that the Provincial roses
took their name from Provins, in Lower Brie, and not from Pro-
vence. Razed shoes are most probably embroidered shoes. The
quarto reads, rac'd. To race, or rase, was to stripe.
40 [A cry of players.] It was usual to call a pack of hounds
a cry ; from the French meute de chiens : it is here humorously
applied to a troop or company of players. It is used again in
Coriolanns : Menenius says to the citizens, 'You have made
good work, you and your cry.' In the very curious catalogue of
The Companyes of Bestys, given in The Boke of St. Albans,
many equally singular terms may be found, which seem to have
exercised the wit and ingenuity of our ancestors ; as a throve of
throshers, a scull or shoal of monks, &c.
41 The players were paid not by salaries, but by shares or
portions of the profit, according to merit. See Malone's Account
of the Ancient Theatres, passim.
42 [A very, very — peacock.] The old copies read paiock, and
paiocke. The peacock was as proverbially used for a proud fool
as the lapwing for a silly one. ' Pavoneggiare, to court it, to
brave it, to peacockise it, to wantonise it, to get up and down
fondly, gazing upon himself as a peacocke does.' — Florio, Hal.
Diet. 1598. Theobald proposed to read paddock ; and in the
last scene Hamlet bestows this opprobrious name upon the king.
Mr. Blakeway has suggested that we might read puttock, which
means a base degenerate hawk, a kite ; which Shakspeare does
indeed contrast with the eagle in Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 2 : —
• I chose an eagle, and did avoid a. puttock.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 261
Hor. I did very well note him.
Ham. Ah, ha! — Come, some musick; come, the
recorders 43. —
For if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike, — he likes it not, perdy44.
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Come, some musick.
Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with
you.
Ham. Sir, a whole history.
Guil. The king, sir,
Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?
Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distem-
pered.
Ham. With drink, sir ?
Guil. No, my lord, with choler.
Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more
richer, to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to
put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge
him into more choler.
Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into
some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
Ham. I am tame, sir : — pronounce.
Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great
affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ham. You are welcome.
Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of
the right breed. If it shall please you to make me
a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's com-
43 [The recorders.'] See note on a Midsummer Night's Dream,
Act i. Sc. 1. It is difficult to settle exactly the form of this
instrument : old writers in general make no distinction between
a flute, a pipe, and a recorder; but Hawkins has shown clearly,
from a passage in Lord Bacon's Natural History, that the flute
and the recorder were distinct instruments.
41 Perdy is a corruption of the French par Dieu.
A A 2
,
262 HAMLET, ACT III.
mandment: if not, your pardon, and my return shall
be the end of my business.
Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord?
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer ; my wit's
diseased : But, sir, such answer as I can make,
you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my
mother: therefore no more, but to the matter; My
mother, you say,
Ros. Then thus she says : Your behaviour ha
struck her into amazement and admiration.
Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a
mother! — But is there no sequel at the heels of
this mother's admiration ? impart.
Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet,
ere you go to bed.
Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our
mother. Have you any further trade with us ?
Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.
Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of dis-
temper? you do, surely, but bar the door upon
your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your
friend.
Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice
of the king himself for your succession in Den-
mark?
Ham. Ay, sir, but While the grass grows, — the
proverb is something musty.
Enter the Players, with Recorders.
O, the recorders : — let me see one. — To withdraw
with you45. — Why do you go about to recover the
45 ' To withdraw with you.' Malone added here a stage di-
rection [Taking Guild, aside.] Steevens thinks it an answer to
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 263
wind of me 46, as if you would drive me into a toil ?
Guil. 0, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my
love is too unmannerly 47.
Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you
play upon this pipe ?
Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.
Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.
Ham. ?Tis as easy as lying: govern these ven-
tages M with your fingers and thumb, give it breath
with your mouth, and it will discourse most elo-
quent musick. Look you, these are the stops.
Guil. But these cannot I command to any utter-
ance of harmony ; I have not the skill.
Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a
thing you make of me ? You would play upon me ;
a motion Guildenstern had used, for Hamlet to withdraw with
him. 1 think that it meaus no more than ' to draw back with
yon,' to leave that scent or trail. It is a hunting term, like that
which follows.
46 ' To recover the wind of me.' This is a term which has
been left unexplained. It is borrowed from hunting, as the
context shows ; and means, to take advantage of the animal pur-
sued, by getting to the windward of it, that it may not scent its
pursuers. ' Observe how the wind is, that you may set the net
so as the hare and wind may come together ; if the wind be side-
ways it may do well enough, but never if it blow over the net
into the hare's face, for he will scent both it and you at a dis-
tance.'— Gentleman's Recreation.
47 Hamlet may say with propriety, ' I do not well understand
that.' Perhaps Guildenstern means, ' If my duty to the king
makes me too bold, my love to you makes me importunate even
to rudeness.'
48 The ventages are the holes of the pipe. The stops means
the mode of stopping those ventages to produce notes. Malone
has made it the ' sounds produced.' Thus in King Henry V.
Prologue : —
' Rumour is a pipe
And of so easy and so plain a stop.'
264 HAMLET, ACT III.
you would seem .to know my stops ; you would
pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would
sound me from my lowest note to the top of my
compass: and there is much musick, excellent
voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it
speak. 'Sblood, do you think, I am easier to be
played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument
you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play
upon me.
Enter Polonius.
God bless you, sir !
Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you,
and presently.
Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in
shape of a camel ?
Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is backed like a weasel.
Ham. Or, like a whale ?
Pol. Very like a whale.
Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and
by. — They fool me to the top of my bent49. — I will
come by and by.
Pol. I will say so. [Exit Polonius.
Ham. By and by is easily said. — Leave me,
friends. [Exeunt Ros. Guil. Hor, fyc.
'Tis now the very witching time of night ;
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot
blood,
And do such bitter business as the day50
Would quake to look on. Soft ; now to my mother, —
49 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2.
&0 The quarto reads : —
' And do such business as the bitter daj,' &c.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 265
0, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom :
Let me be cruel, not unnatural :
I will speak daggers to her51, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites :
How in my words soever she be shent52,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent ! [Exit.
SCENE III. A Room in the same.
Ifoter King, RoSENCRANTZ,a?ldGuiLDENSTERN.
King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you ;
J. your commission will forthwith despatch,
And he to England shall along with you :
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.
Guil. We will ourselves provide :
Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep those many many bodies safe,
That live, and feed, upon your majesty.
Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from 'noyance ; but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal x depend and rest
51 ' They are pestilent fellows, they speak nothing but bodkins.'
— Return from Parnassus. In the Aulularia of Plautus a phrase
not less singular occurs : —
* Me. Quia mitri miseri cerebrum excutiunt,
Tua dicta soror : lapides loqueris.' Act ii. Sc. 1.
52 To shend is to injure, whether by reproof, blows, or other-
wise. Shakspeare generally uses shent for reproved, threatened
with angry words. ' To give his words seals' is therefore to
carry his punishment beyond reproof. The allusion is the seal-
ing a deed to render it effective. The quarto of 1603 : —
* I will speak daggers; those sharp words being spent,
To do her wrong my soul shall ne'er consent.'
1 Folio reads ' spirits.'
266 HAMLET, ACT III.
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage ;
For we will fetters put upon 2 this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
Ros. Guil. We will haste us.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guil.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
Behind the arras 8 I'll convey myself,
To hear the process ; I'll warrant, she'll tax him
home ;
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial 4, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage 5. Fare you well, my liege ;
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
King. Thanks, dear my lord.
[Exit Polonius.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to lieaven ;
2 Quarto — ' about.'
3 See King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
4 < Matres oranes filiis
In peccato adjutrices, auxilii in paterna injuria
Solent esse' Ter. Heaut. Act v. Sc. 2.
5 Warburton explains of vantage, ' by some opportunity oi
secret observation.' I incline to think that ' of vantage,' in
Shakspeare's language, is for advantage, commodi causa.
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 267
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will6;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,
To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence ?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, —
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn ? Forgive me my foul murder ! —
That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law : But 'tis not so above :
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature : and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can : What can it not ?
Yet what can it, when one can not repent?
O wretched state ! O bosom, black as death !
O limed7 soul; that struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd ! Help, angels, make assay !
6 i. e. * though I was not only willing, but strongly inclined
to pray, my guilt prevented me.'
7 i. e. caught as with birdlime.
268 HAMLET, ACT III.
Bow, stubborn knees ! and, heart, with strings of
steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;
All may be well ! [Retires and kneels.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't ; and so he goes to heaven :
And so am I reveng'd ? That would be scann'd 8 :
A villain kills my father ; and, for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary 9, not revenge.
He took my father grossly full of bread ;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven ?
But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage ?
No.
Up, sword ; and know thou a more horrid hent 10 :
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ;
At gaming, swearing ; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't :
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven :
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
As hell, whereto it goes11. My mother stays:
This physick but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit.
8 ' That would be scann'd' — that requires consideration, or
ought to be estimated.
9 The quarto reads, base and silly.
10 Shakspeare has used the verb to hent, to take, to lay hold
on, elsewhere ; but the word is here used as a substantive, for
hold or opportunity.
11 Johnson has justly exclaimed against the horrible nature
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK.
The King rises and advances.
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain
below :
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go12.
[Exit.
SCENE IV. Another Room in the same.
Enter Queen and Polonius.
Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home
to him :
Tell him , his pranks have been too broad to bear with ;
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood be-
tween
Much heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here.
'Pray you, be round with him1.
Queen. I'll warrant you ;
Fear me not: — withdraw, I hear him coming.
[Polonius hides himself.
of this desperate revenge ; but the quotations of the commen-
tators from other plays cotemporary with and succeeding this,
show that it could not have been so horrifying to the ears of our
ancestors. In times of less civilisation, revenge was held almost
a sacred duty ; and the purpose of the appearance of the ghost in
this play is chiefly to excite Hamlet to it. The more fell and
terrible the retributive act, the more meritorious it seems to
have been held. The King himself in a future scene, when sti-
mulating Laertes to kill Hamlet, says, ' Revenge should have
no bounds.' Mason has observed that, horrid as this resolution
of Hamlet's is, ' yet some moral maybe extracted from it, as all
his subsequent misfortunes were owing to this savage refinement
of revenge.'
12 First quarto: —
' No king on earth is safe, if God's his foe.'
1 The folio here interposes the following speech : —
• Ham. [ Within.'] Mother, mother, mother.'
The circumstance of Polonius hiding himself behind the arras
and the manner of his death are found in the old black letter
prose Hystory of Hamblett.
VOL. X. B B
270 HAMLET, ACT III.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Now, mother; what's the matter ?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much of-
fended.
Hani. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle
tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
Ham. What's the matter now'
Queen. Have you forgot me ?
Ham. No, by the rood, not so
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And, — 'would it were not so ! — you are my mother
Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that cat
speak.
Ham. Come, come, and sit you down ; you shal
not budge ;
You go not, till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Queen. What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not mur
der me ?
Help, help, ho !
Pol. [Behind.] What, ho! help!
Ham. How now ! a rat
[Draws
Dead, for a ducat, dead.
[Hamlet makes a pass through the Arrat
Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain.
[Falls, and dies
Queen. O me, what hast thou done?
Ham. Nay, I know not
Is it the king?
[Lifts up the Arras, and draws forth Polo
NIUS.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 271
Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this !
Ham. A bloody deed ; almost as bad, good mother,
U kill a king, and marry with his brother2.
Queen. As kill a king !
Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word. —
'hou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell !
[To Polon i us.
took thee for thy better ; take thy fortune :
'hou find'st to be too busy, is some danger. —
^eave wringing of your hands; Peace ; sit you down,
^nd let me wring your heart : for so I shall,
fit be made of penetrable stuff:
f damned custom have not braz'd it so,
'hat it be proof and bulwark against sense.
Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag
thy tongue
n noise so rude against me?
Ham. Such an act,
'hat blurs the grace and blush of modesty ;
'alls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose
horn the fair forehead of an innocent love,
Lnd sets a blister there3; makes marriage vows
2 There is an idle and verbose controversy between Steevens
ad Malone, whether the poet meant to represent the Queen as
ailty or innocent of being accessory to the murder of her hus-
and. Surely there can be no doubt upon the matter. The
•ueen shows no emotion at the mock play when it is said —
* In second husband let me be accurst,
None wed the second but who kill'd the first' —
ad now manifests the surprise of conscious innocence upon the
lbject. It should also be observed that Hamlet never directly
reuses her of any guilty participation in that crime. I am happy
> find my opinion, so expressed in December, 1823, confirmed by
le newly discovered quarto copy of 1603 ; in which the Queen
i a future speech is made to say —
1 But, as I have a soul, I swear by heaven,
I never knew of this most horrid murder.'
3 ' takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,' &c.
»ue would think by the ludicrous gravity with which Steevens
272 HAMLET, ACT III.
As false" as dicers' oaths: 0, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words : Heaven's face doth glow ;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act4.
Queen. Ah me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index5?
Ham. Look here upon this picture, and on this;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow :
Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station6 like the herald Mercury,
IVew-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination, and a form, indeed,
and Malone take this figurative expression in a literal sens*
that they were unused to the language of poetry, especially t
the adventurous metaphors of Shakspeare. Mr. Boswell's not
is short and to the purpose. ' Rose is put generally for th
ornament, the grace of an innocent love.' Ophelia describe
Hamlet as —
' The expectancy and rose of the fair state.'
4 The quarto of 1604 gives this passage thus : —
' Heaven's face does glow
O'er this solidity and compound mass
With heated visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.'
5 The index, or table of contents, was formerly placed at th
beginning of books. In Othello, Act ii. Sc. 7, we have — ' a
index and obscure prologue to the history of foul and lustfi
thoughts.'
6 It is evident from this passage that whole length pictun
of the two kings were formerly introduced. Station does n<
mean the spot where any one is placed, but the act of standing
t he attitude. So in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 3 : —
' Her motion and her station are as one.'
Without this explanation it might be conceived that the compl
ment designed for the attitude of the King was bestowed on tli
place where Mercury is represented as standing.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 273
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man :
This was your husband. — Look you now, what fol-
lows:
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother 7. Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten 8 on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ?
You cannot call it, love : for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment ; And what judgment
Would step from this to this ? [Sense9, sure you have,
Else could you not have motion : But, sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd : for madness would not err ;
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd,
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference.] What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind10?
fEyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope 11.]
0 shame ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell,
7 Here the allusion is to Pharaoh's dream. Genesis, xli.
8 i. e. to feed rankly or grossly : it is usually applied to the
fattening of animals. Marlowe has it for * to grow fat.' Bat is
ihe old word for increase ; whence we have battle, batten, batful.
9 Sense here is not used for reason; but for sensation, feeling,
or perception : as before in this scene : —
• ' That it be proof and bulwark against sense.y
Warburton, misunderstanding the passage, proposed to read
notion instead of motion. The whole passage in brackets is
omitted in the folio.
10 ' The hoodwinke play, or hoodman blind, in some place, call-
ed blindmanbuf.' — Baret. It appears also to have been called
[ blind hob. It is hob-man blind in the quarto of 1603.
11 i. e. could not be so dull and stupid.
B B 2
274 HAMLET, ACT III.
If thou canst mutine12 in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire13; proclaim no shame,
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more :
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ;
And there I see such black and grained14 spots
As will not leave their tinct.
Ham. Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed15 bed;
Stew'd in corruption ; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty sty ;
Queen. O, speak to me no more;
These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears :
No more, sweet Hamlet.
Ham. A murderer, and a villain ;
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe
12 Mutine for mutiny. This is the old form of the verb. Shak-
speare calls mutineers mutines in a subsequent scene ; but this is,
I believe, peculiar to him : they were called mutiners anciently.
13 Thus in the quarto of 1603 :—
• Why appetite with you is in the wane,
Your blood runs backward now from whence it came :
Who'll chide hot blood within a virgin's heart
When lust shall dwell within a matron's breast.'
14 • Grained spots ;' that is, dyed in grain, deeply imbued.
15 i. e. greasy, rank, gross. It is a term borrowed from fal-
conry. It is well known that the seam of any animal was the fat
or tallow ; and a hawk was said to be enseamed when she was
too fat or gross for flight. By some confusion of terms, how-
ever, ' to enseam a hawk' was used for ' to purge her of glut and
grease;' by analogy it should have been unseam. Beaumont
and Fletcher, in The False One, use inseamed in the same man-
ner:—
' His lechery inseamed upon him.'
It should be remarked, that the quarto of 1003 reads incestuous;
as does that of 1611.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 275
Of your precedent lord : — a vice l6 of kings :
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule ;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket !
Queen. No more.
Enter Ghost17.
Ham. A king
Of shreds and patches : —
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards ! — What would your gracious
figure ?
Queen. Alas, he's mad.
Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion18, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command ?
O, say !
Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look ! amazement on thy mother sits :
O, step between her and her fighting soul;
Conceit19 in weakest bodies strongest works;
Speak to her, Hamlet.
Ham. How is it with you, lady ?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you ?
16 i. e. ' the low mimic, the counterfeit, a dizard, or common
vice and jester, counterfeiting the gestures of any man.' — Fleming.
Shakspeare afterwards calls him a king of shreds and patches,
alluding to the party-coloured hahit of the vice or fool in a play.
17 The first quarto adds, ' in his night-gown.'
18 • Laps'd in time and passion.' Johnson explains this —
' That having suffered time to slip and passion to cool, let's go
by,' &c. This explanation is confirmed by the quarto of 1603 :
• Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That I thus long have let revenge slip by.'
19 Conceit for conception, imagination. This was the force of
the word among our ancestors. Thus in The Rape of Lucrece ;
' And the conceited painter was so nice.'
276 HAMLET, ACT III.
That you do bend your eye on vacany,
And with the ineorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements20,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
Ham. On him ! on him ! — Look you, how pale
he glares !
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable21. — Do not look upon me ;
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert
My stern affects 22 : then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this ?
20 ' The hair is excrementitious ; that is, without life or sen-
sation ; jet those very hairs, as if they had life, start up,' &c. So
Macbeth : —
' i my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in't.'
21 Capable for susceptible, intelligent, i.e. would excite in then
capacity to understand. Thus in King Richard III. : — ■
' O 'tis a parlous boy,
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable.'
22 ' My stern affects.' All former editions read — ' My sterr
effects.' Effects, for actions, deeds, effected,' savs Malone ! W<
should certainly read affects, i. e. dispositions, affections of tht
mind : as in that disputed passage of Othello : — ' the youn£
affects in me defunct.'
It is remarkable that we have the same error in Measure fo:
Measure, Act iii. Sc. 1, p. 49 : —
' Thou art not certain,
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects
After the moon.'
Dr. Johnson saw the error in that play, and proposed to rea<
affects. But the present passage has escaped observation. Th<
' piteous action' of the ghost could not alter things already
effected, but might move Hamlet to a less stern mood of mind.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 277
Ham. Do you see nothing there?
Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear ?
Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves.
Ham. Why, look you there ! look, how it steals
away !
My father, in his habit as he liv'd !
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal !
[Exit Ghost.
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain :
This bodiless creation ecstasy23
Is very cunning in.
Ham. Ectasy!
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful musick : It is not madness,
That I have utter'd : bring me to the test,
And I the matter will reword; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks :
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ;
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost24 on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue :
For in the fatness of these pursy times,
23 See p. 175, note 6, and The Tempest, vol. i. p. 67. This
speech of the queen has the following remarkable variation in
the quarto of 1603 : —
' Alas, it is the weakness of thy brain
Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy heart's grief:
But as I have a soul, I swear to heaven,
I never lcneiv of this most horrid murder :
But, Hamlet, this is only fantasy,
And for my love forget these idle fits.'
24 ' Do not by any new indulgence heighten your former
offences.'
/
278 HAMLET, ACT III.
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg :
Yea, curb25 and woo, for leave to do him good.
Queen. O, Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in
twain.
Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night : but go not to my uncle's bed ;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
[That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this26;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on :] Refrain to-night27;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence : [28the next more easy :
25 i. e. bow. * Courber, Fr. to bow, crook, or curb,' Thus in
Pierce Plowman : —
' Then I courbid on my knees.'
26 J That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this,' &c.
This passage, which is not in the folio, has been thought corrupt.
Dr. Thirlby proposed to read, ' Of habits evil.' Steevens would
read, ' Or habits' devil.' It is evident that there is an intended
opposition between angel and devil; but the passage will perhaps
bear explaining as it stands: — ' That monster custom, who de-
vours all sense (feeling, or perception) of devilish habits, is angel
yet in this,' &c. This passage might perhaps have been as well
omitted after the example of the editors of the folio ; but, I pre-
sume, it has been retained upon the principle which every where
guide the editors, ' To lose no drop of that immortal man.'
27 Here the quarto of 1603 has two remarkable lines : —
' And, mother, but assist me in revenge,
And in his death your infamy shall die.'
28 [The next more easy, &c] This passage, as far as potency,
is also omitted in the folio. In the line : —
1 And either quell the devil, or throw him out.'
The word quell is wanting in the old copy. Malone inserted
the word curb, because he found, in The Merchant of Venice,
' And curb this cruel devil of his will.' But the occurrence of
curb in so opposite a sense just before is against his emendation.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 279
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either quell the devil or throw him out
With wondrous potency.] Once more, good night !
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you. — For this same lord,
[Pointing to Polonius.
I do repent : But heaven hath pleas'd it so, —
To punish me with this, and this with me29,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night! —
I must be cruel, only to be kind :
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. —
But one word more, good lady.
Queen. What shall I do ?
Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do :
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek ; call you, his mouse30;
And let him, for a pair of reechy 31 kisses,
Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft32. 'Twere good, you let him know ;
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib 33,
29 ' To punish me by making me the instrument of this man's
death, and to punish this man by my hand.'
30 Mouse, a term of endearment formerly. Thus Burton, in
his Anatomy of Melancholy : — ' Pleasant names may be invented,
bird, mouse, lamb, puss, pigeon,' &o.
31 i. e. reeky or fumant ; reekant, as Florio calls it. The king-
has been already called the bloat king, which hints at his intem-
perance. In Coriolanus we have the reechy neck of a kitchen
wench. Reeky and reechy are the same word, and always applied
to any vaporous exhalation, even to the fumes of a dunghill.
32 The hint for Hamlet's feigned madness is taken from the
old Historie of Hamblett already mentioned.
33 For paddock, a toad, see Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 1 : and for gib,
a cat, see King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
280 HAMLET, ACT III.
Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so ?
No, in despite of sense, and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly ; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions 34, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.
Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of
breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me 35.
Ham. I must to England 36 ; you know that ?
Queen. Alack,
I had forgot ; 'tis so concluded on.
Ham. [There's letters seal'd : and my two school-
fellows 37, —
Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd, —
They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way
And marshal me to knavery : Let it work ;
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar38 : and it shall go hard,
34 To try conclusions is to pat to proof, or try experiment?
See Merchant of Venice, Act ii. Sc. 2. Sir John Suckling possi
bly alludes to the same story in one of his letters: — ' It is th
story after all of the jackanapes and the partridges ; thou stares
after a beauty till it be lost to thee, and then let'st out anothei
and starest after that till it is gone too.'
35 The quarto of 1603 has here another remarkable variation :-
' Hamlet, I vow by that Majesty
That knows our thoughts and looks into our hearts,
I will conceal, consent, and do m}r best,
What stratagem soe'er thou shalt devise.'
36 The manner in which Hamlet came to know that he was I
be sent to England is not developed. He expresses surprh
when the king mentions it in a future scene ; but his design i
passing for a madman may account for this.
37 This and the eight following verses are omitted in tl
folio.
38 Hoist with his own petar. Hoist for hoised. To hoijse w
the old verb. A" petar was a kind of mortar used to blow i
gates.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 281
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon : O, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet. — ]
This man shall set me packing.
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room39:
Mother, good night. — Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you : —
Good night, mother.
[Exeunt severally ; Hamlet dragging in
Polonius.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The same.
Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, and Guil-
DENSTERN.
King. There's matter in these sighs ; these pro-
found heaves :
You must translate : 'tis fit we understand them :
Where is your son ?
39 It must be confessed that this is coarse language for a
prince under any circumstances, and such as is not called for by
the occasion. But Hamlet has purposely chosen gross expres-
sions and coarse metaphors throughout the interview with his
mother, perhaps to make his appeal to her feelings the more
forcible. Something may be said in extenuation. The word
guts was not anciently so offensive to delicacy as it is at present ;
the courtly Lyly has used it in his Mydas, 1592. Stanyhurst often
in his translation of Virgil, and Chapman in his version of the
sixth Iliad : —
' in whose guts the king of men imprest
His ashen lance.'
In short, guts was Msed where we now use entrails.
VOL. X. C C
282 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while l, —
[7b Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
who go out.
Ah2, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!
King. What, Gertrude ? How does Hamlet ?
Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both
contend 3
Which is the mightier : In his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat! a rat!
And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.
King. O heavy deed !
It had been so with us, had we been there :
His liberty is full of threats to all ;
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Alas ! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
It will be laid to us, whose providence
Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt4
This mad young man : but, so much was our love
We would not understand what was most fit ;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone ?
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kilPd :
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore,
1 This line does not appear in the folio, in which Guildenstei
and Rosencrantz are not brought on the stage at all.
2 Quarto — Ah, mine oicn lord.
3 Thus in Lear : —
' he was met e'en now
As mad as the vex'd sea.'
4 Out of haunt means out of company. ' Frequentia, a gre
haunt or company of folk.' Thus in Antony and Cleopatra : —
• Dido and her Sichaeus shall want troops,
And all the haunt be ours.'
And in Romeo and Juliet : —
' We talk here in the public haunt of men.'
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 283
Among a mineral5 of metals base,
Shows itself pure ; he weeps for what is done.
King. O, Gertrude, come away !
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence : and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance and excuse. — Ho I Guildenstern !
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid :
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him :
Go, seek him out ; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done : [so, haply, slander, —
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank6,
Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air7.] — O, come away !
My soul is full of discord, and dismay. [Exeunt.
5 Shakspeare, with a licence not unusual among his cotempo-
raries, uses ore for gold, and mineral for mine. Bullokar and
Blount both define ' or or ore, gold ; of a golden colour.' And
the Cambridge Dictionary, 1594, under the Latin word mineralia,
will show how the English mineral came to be used for a mine.
Thus also in The Golden Remaines of Hales of Eton, 1G93 : —
* Controversies of the times, like spirits in the minerals, with all
their labour nothing is done.'
6 The blank was the mark at which shots or arrows were
directed. Thus in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. Sc. 3 : —
1 Out of the blank and level of my aim.'
7 The passage in brackets is not in the folio. The words ' So
haply slander' are also omitted in the quartos; they were sup-
plied by Theobald. The addition is supported by a passage in
Cymbeline : —
< , — No, 'tis slander,
284 HAMLET, ACT IV.
SCENE II. Another Room in the same.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Safely stowed, — [Hos. fyc. within.
Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!] But soft1! — what noise?
who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come.
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the
dead body ?
Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
Ros. Tell us where 'tis ; that we may take it thence,
And bear it to the chapel.
Ham. Do not believe it.
Ros. Believe what ?
Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not
mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge !
— what replication should be made by the son of a
king?
Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
Ham. Ay, sir ; that soaks up the king's counte-
nance, his rewards, his authorities2. But such offi-
cers do the king best service in the end : He keeps
them, like an ape doth nuts 3, in the corner of his
jaw ; first mouthed to be last swallowed: When he
"Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Out-venom* all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth bely
All corners of the world.'
1 ' But soft,' these two words are not in the folio.
2 Here the quarto 1603 inserts • that makes his liberality
your storehouse, but,' &c.
3 The omission of the words ' doth nuts,' in the old copies, hac
obscured this passage. Dr. Farmer proposed to read ' like ai
ape an apple.' The words are now supplied from the newly dis
covered quarto of 1603.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 285
ieeds what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing
^ou, and, sponge, you shall be dry again4.
Ros. I understand you not, my lord.
Ham. I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps
n a foolish ear.
Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body
is, and go with us to the king.
Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is
not with the body 5. The king is a thing
Guil. A thing, my lord ?
Ham. Of nothing: brins; me to him. Hide fox,
and all after6. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Another Room in the same.
Enter King, attended.
King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the
body.
How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose !
Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes ;
And, where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
This sudden sending him away must seem
* ' He's but a spunge, and shortly needs must leese,
His wrong got juice, when greatness' fist shall squeese
His liquor out.' Marston, §at. \ii.
3 Hamlet affects obscurity. His meaning may be ' The king
if a body without a kingly soul, a thing — of nothing.' Johnson
would have altered ' Of nothing' to Or nothing ; but Steevens
and Farmer, by their superior acquaintance with our elder
writers, soon clearly showed, by several examples, that the text
was right.
5 ' Hide fox, and all after.' This was a juvenile sport, most
•robably what is now called hoop, or hide and seek; in which one
;hild hides himself, and the rest run all after, seeking him. The
words are not in the quarto.
c c 2
28G HAMLET, ACT IV.
Deliberate pause : Diseases, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Enter Rosencrantz.
Or not at all. — How now? what hath befallen ?
Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
We cannot get from him.
King. But where is he ?
Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your
pleasure.
King. Bring him before us.
Ros. Ho, Guildenstern ! bring in my lord.
Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern.
King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius ?
Ham. At supper.
, King. At supper? Where?
Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten :
a certain convocation of politick worms are e'en at
him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we
fat all creatures else, to fat us ; and we fat ourselves
for maggots ; Your fat king, and your lean beggar,
is but variable service ; two dishes, but to one table ;
that's the end.
[King. Alas, alas !
Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath
eat of a king ; and eat of the fish that hath fed of
that worm1.]
King. What dost thou mean by this ?
Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king may
go a progress2 through the guts of a beggar.
1 Alas, Alas! This speech, and the following one of Hamlet,
are omitted in the folio.
- A progress is a journey. Steevens says ' it alludes to the
royal journies of state, always styled progresses.' This a\ ;> ?>
probably in Shakspeare's mind, for the word was certainly ap-
plied to those periodical journeys of the sovereign to visit their
SC. III. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 287
King. Where is Polonius?
Ham. In heaven ; send thither to see : if your
messenger find him not there, seek him i'the other
place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not
within this month, you shall nose him as you go up
the stairs into the lobby.
King. Go seek him there. [To some Attendants.
Ham. He will stay till you come.
[Exeunt Attendants.
King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safe-
Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done, — must send thee
hence
With fiery quickness : Therefore prepare thyself;
The bark is ready, and the wind at help3,
The associates tend4, and every thing is bent
For England.
Ham. For England ?
King. Ay, Hamlet.
Ham. Good.
King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them. — But, come;
for England ! — Farewell, dear mother.
King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
Ham. My mother : Father and mother is man
and wife ; man and wife is one flesh ; and so, my
mother. Come, for England. [Exit.
noble subjects, but by no means exclusively. Sir William
Drury, in a Letter to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, among the
Conway papers, tells him he is going ' a little progresse to be
merry with his neighbours.' And that popular book of John
Bunyan's, The Pilgrim's Progress, is surely not the account of a
regal ' predatory excursion.'
3 i. e. in modern phrase ' the wind serves,' or is right to aid or
■h>lp you on your way.
4 i. e. attend.
288 HAMLET, ACT IV.
King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed
aboard ;
Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night ;
Away ; for every thing is seal'd and done
That else leans on the affair: 'Pray you, make haste.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense ;
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly set3
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ;
For like the hectick in my blood he rages6,
And thou must cure me : Till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin7.
[Exit
SCENE IV. A Plain in Denmark.
Enter Fortinbras, and Forces, marching.
For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king
Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras
Claims 1 the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye 2.
And let him know so.
5 To set formerly meant to estimate. ■ There is no ellipsis, a
Alalone supposed. ' To sette, or tell the pryce ; a-stimare' T
set much or little by a thing, is to estimate it much or little.
6 ' I would forget her, but a fever she
Reigns in my blood.' Love's Labours Lost.
7 The folio reads : —
1 Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.'
1 The quarto reads— craves.
2 Eye for presence. In the Regulations for the establishmei
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 289
Cap. I will do't, my lord.
For. Go softly on.
[Exeunt Fortinbras and Forces.
Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guilden-
stern, #c.
[3 Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these ?
Cap. They are of Norway, sir.
Ham. How purpos'd, sir,
[ pray you ?
Cap. Against some part of Poland.
Ham. Who
Commands them, sir?
Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
3r for some frontier ?
Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground,
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole,
\. ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd.
Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand
ducats,
Will not debate the question of this straw :
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace ;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies. — I humbly thank you, sir.
Cap. God be wi' you, sir. [Exit Captain.
)f the Queen's Household, 1C27 : — ' All such as doe service in
he queen s eye.' And in The Establishment of Prince Henry's
Household, 1610 : — ' All such as doe service in the prince's eye.'
It was the formulary for the royal presence. '
3 The remainder of this scene is omitted in the folio.
290 HAMLET, ACT IV.
JRos. WhTt please you go, my lord?
Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little
before. [Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man,
If his chief good, and market4 of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed ? a beast, no more.
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse5,
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven6 scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event, —
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one par
wisdom,
And, ever, three parts coward, — I do not know
Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do:
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince ;
Whose spirit, with divine ambition pufPd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event ;
4 i. e. profit.
5 See note on Act i. Sc. 2, p. 174. It is evident that discui
sive powers of mind are meant; or, as Johnson explains i
' such latitude of comprehension, such power of reviewing th
past, and anticipating the future.' Since I wrote the forme
note, I find that Bishop Wilkins makes ratiocination and discouri
convertible terms.
6 Craven is recreant, cowardly. It may be satisfactoril
traced from crant, creant, the old French word for an act of sul
mission. It is so written in the old metrical romance of Ywair
and Gawaine (Ritson, vol. i. p. 133) :- —
' Or yelde the til us als creant.'
And in Richard Coeur de Lion (Weber, vol. ii. p. 208) :—
1 On knees he fel down, and cryde, " Crtaunt." '
It then became cravant, cravent, and at length craven. It
superfluous to add that recreant is from the same source.
SC. IV. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 291
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,
To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,
Even for an egg shell. Rightly to be great,
[s, not to stir without great argument ;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason, and my blood7,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds : fight for a plot8
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough, and continent9,
To hide the slain ? — O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth !
[Exit.
SCENE V. Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Queen and Horatio.
Queen. 1 will not speak with her.
Hor. She is importunate ; indeed, distract ;
Her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen. What would she have ?
1 Excitements of my reason and my blood.'
Provocations which excite both my reason and my passions to
vengeance.
8 A plot of ground. Thus in The Mirror for Magistrates : —
' Of ground to win &plot, a while to dwell,
"We venture lives, and send our souls to hell.'
9 Continent means that which comprehends or encloses. Thus
in Lear : —
* Rive your concealing continents.'
And in Chapman's version of the third Iliad : —
' did take
Thy fair form for a continent of parts as fair.'
' If there be no fulnesse, then is the continent greater than the
content.' — Bacon's Advancement of Learning, 1633, p. 7.
292 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she
hears,
There's tricks i'the world ; and hems, and beats her
heart ;
Spurns enviously 1 at straws ; speaks things in doubt
That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection 2 ; they aim 3 at it,
And botch the words up tit to their own thoughts;
Which, as her winks and nods, and gestures yield
them,
Indeed would make one think, there might4 bt
thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily5.
Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with ; fo
she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds :
Let her come in6. [Exit Horatio
To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss 7 :
1 Envy is often used by Shakspeare and his coteraporaries fo
malice, spite, or hatred : —
' You turn the good we offer into envy.'
King Henry VIII.
See Merchant of Venice, Act iv. Sc. 1. Indeed ' enviously, an
spitefully,' are treated as synonymous by our old writers.
2 To collection, that is to gather or deduce consequences froi
such premises. Thus in Cymbeline, Act v. Sc. 5 : —
• whose containing
Is so from sense to hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it.'
See note on that passage.
3 The quartos read— yawn. To aim is to guess.
4 Folio — would.
5 Unhappily, that is mischievously.
6 The three first lines of this speech are given to Horatic
the quarto.
7 Shakspeare is not singular in his use of amiss as a substai
tive. Several instances are adduced by Steevens, and more I
Mr. Nares in his Glossary. 'Each toy' is each trifle.
.,
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 293
50 full of artless jealousy is guilt,
tt spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
Re-enter Horatio, with Ophelia8.
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Den-
mark ?
Queen. How now, Ophelia?
Oph. How should I your true love know,
From another one ?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon9. [Singing.
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Oph. Say you? nay; 'pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady, [Sings.
He is dead and gone ;
At his head a grass- green turf,
At his heels a stone.
% ho I
Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,
Oph. 'Pray you, mark.
White his shroud as the mountain snow.
[Sings.
Enter King.
Queen. Alas, look here, my lord.
Oph. Larded10 all with sweet flowers ;
Which bewept to the grave n did go,
With true love showers.
8 ' There is no part of this play in its representation on the
;tage more pathetic than this scene ; which, I suppose, proceeds
rom the utter insensibility Ophelia has to her own misfortunes.
V great sensibility, or none at all, seem to produce the same
effects. In the latter [case] the audience supply what is want-
ng, and with the former they sympathize.' — Sir J. Reynolds.
9 These were the badges of pilgrims. The cockle shell was an
emblem of their intention to go bejond sea. The habit being
leld sacred, was often assumed as a disguise in love adventures,
[n The Old Wive's Tale, by Peele, 1595 :— ' I will give thee a
lalmer's staff of ivory, and a scallop shell of beaten gold.'
10 Garnished. H Quarto — ground.
VOL. X. D D
294 HAMLET, ACT IV.
King. How do you, pretty lady ?
Opk. Well, God'ield12 you! They say, the ow
was a baker's daughter13. Lord, we know what w*
are, but know not what we may be. God be a
your table !
King. Conceit upon her father.
Oph. 'Pray, let us have no words of this; bu
when they ask you, what it means, say you this :
Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day 14,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window.
To be your Valentine :
,a See Macbeth, Act i. Sc. vi.
13 This (says Mr. Douce) is a common tradition in douce;
tershire, and is thus related: — ' Our Saviour went into a baker
shop where they were baking, and asked for some bread to ea
The mistress of the shop immediately put a piece of dough in tb
oven to bake for him ; but was reprimanded by her daughte
who insisting that the piece of dough was too large, reduced
to a very small size. The dough, however, immediately bega
to swell, and presently became of a most enormous size. Wher
upon the baker's daughter cried out Heugh, heugh, heugh, whit
owl-like noise probably induced our Saviour to transform h<
into that bird for her wickedness.' The story is related to det<
children from illiberal behaviour to the poor.
14 The old copies read : —
' To-morrow 'tis Saint Valentine's day.'
The emendation was made by Dr. Farmer. The origin of tl
choosing of Valentines has not been clearly developed. M
Douce traces it to a Pagan custom of the same kind during tl
Lupercalia feasts in honour of Pan and Juno, celebrated in tl
month of February by the Romans. The anniversary of the go<
bishop, or Saint Valentine, happening in this month, the pio
early promoters of Christianity placed this popular custom und
the patronage of the saint, in order to eradicate the notion of i
pagan origin. In France the Valantin was a moveable fea;
celebrated on the first Sunday in Lent, which was called t
jour des braudons, because the boys carried about lighted torch
on that day. It is very probable that the saint has nothing to i
with the custom, his legend gives no clue to any such suppo
tion. The popular notion that the birds choose their mates abo
this period has its rise in the poetical world of fiction.
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 295
Then up he rose, and dorid his clothes,
And dupp'd15 the chamber door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
King. Pretty Ophelia !
Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end
on't:
By Gis, and by Saint Charity16,
Alack, andfyefor shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't ;
By cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled met
You promised me to wed :
[He answers.]
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.
King. How long hath she been thus ?
Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be
patient : but I cannot choose but weep, to think,
they should lay him i'tlie cold ground: My bro-
ther shall know of it, and so I thank you for your
good counsel. Come, my coach ! Good night,
ladies ; good night, sweet ladies : good night, good
night. [Exit.
15 To dup is to do up, as to don is to do on, to doff to do off,' &c.
Thus in Damon and Pythias, 1582 : — * The porters are drunk,
will they not dup the gate to day V The phrase probably had its
origin from doing up or lifting the latch. In the old cant lan-
guage to dup the gyger was to open the door. See Harman's
Caveat for Cursetors, 1575.
16 Saint Charity is found in the Martyrology on the first of
Aagust. ' Roma? passio sanctarum virginura Fidei, Spei, et
Charitas, quae sub Hadriano principe martyriae coronam adeptae
sunt.' Spenser mentions her in Eclog. v. 225. By gis and by
cock are only corruptions, or rather substitutions, for different
forms of imprecation by the sacred name.
296 HAMLET, ACT IV.
King. Follow her close ! give her good watch, I
pray you. [Exit Horatio.
O ! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death : And now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude17,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions ! First, her father slain ;
Next, your son gone ; and he most violent author
Of his own just remove : The people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whis-
pers,
For good Polonius' death ; and we have done but
greenly 18,
In hugger-mugger19 to inter him: Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France :
Feeds on his wonder20, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death ;
17 In the quarto 1603 the King says : —
' Ah pretty wretch ! this is a change indeed :
O time, how swiftly runs our joys away ?
Content on earth was never certain bred,
To-day we laugh and live, to-morrow dead.'
18 Greenly is unskilfully, with inexperience.
19 i. e. secretly. ' Clandestinare, to hide or conceal by stealth, or
in hugger mugger.'— Florio. Thus in North's translation of Plu-
tarch : — ' Antonius, thinking that his body should be honourably
buried, and not in hugger mugger.' Pope, offended at this strange
phrase, changed it to private, and was followed by others. Upon
which Johnson remarks : — ■' If phraseology is to be changed as
words grow uncouth by disuse, or gross by vulgarity, the history
of every language will be lost: we shall no longer have the
words of any author : and, as these alterations will be often un-
skilfully made, we shall in time have very little of his meaning.'
20 The quarto reads — 'Keeps on his wonder.' The folio —
' Feeds on this wonder.'
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 297
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece 21, in many places
Gives me superfluous death ! [A noise within.
Queen. Alack ! what noise is this c" ?
Enter a Gentleman.
King. Attend.
Where are my Switzers23? Let them guard the door:
W^hat is the matter ?
Gent. Save yourself, my lord;
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers ! The rabble call him lord ;
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word,
They cry, Choose we ; Laertes shall be king 24 !
21 A murdering-piece,or murderer, was a small piece of artil-
lery ; in French meurtritre. It took its name from the loop-
holes and embrasures in towers and fortilications, which were so
called. The portholes in the forecastle of a ship were also thus
denominated. ' Meurtrkre, c'est un petit canonniere, comme
celles des tours et murailles, ainsi appelle, parceque tirant par
icelle a desceu, ceux ausquels on tire sont facilement meurtri.' —
Nicot. ' Visiere meurtriere, a port-hole for a murthering-piece in
the forecastle of a ship.' — Cotgrave. Case shot, filled with small
bullets, nails, old iron, &c. was often used in these murderers.
This accounts for the raking fire attributed to them in the text,
and in Beaumont and Fletcher's Double Marriage : —
« like a murderino-piece, aims not at me,
But all that stand within the dangerous level.'
22 The speech of the queen is omitted in the quartos.
23 Switzers, for royal guards. The Swiss were then, as since,
mercenary soldiers of any nation that could afford to pay them.
24 The meaning of this contested passage appears to me this :
The rabble call him lord ; and (as if the world were now but to
D D 2
298 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be king, Laertes king !
Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry !
O, this is counter23, you false Danish dogs.
King. The doors are broke. [Noise within.
Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following.
Laer. Where is this king? — Sirs, stand you all
without.
Dan. No, let's come in.
Laer. I pray you, give me leave.
Dan. We will, we will.
[ They retire without the door.
Laer. I thank you : — keep the door. — O thou vile
king,
Give me my father.
Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.
Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims
me bastard ;
Cries, cuckold, to my father ; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirch'd26 brow
Of my true mother.
King. What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ? —
Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person;
There's such divinity doth hedge27 a king,
begin, as if antiquity icere forgot, and custom were unknown)
this rabble, the ratitiers and props of every idle word, cry Choose
we,' &c.
25 Hounds are said to run counter when they are upon a false
scent, or hunt it by the heel, running backward and mistaking
the course of the game. See Comedy of Errors, Act iv. Sc. 2.
26 Unsmirched is unsullied, spotless. See Acti. Sc. 3, p. 180,
note 4.
27 Quarto 1603— wall. Mr. Boswell has adduced the follow-
ing anecdote of Queen Elizabeth as an apposite illustration of
this passage : — ' While her majesty was on the Thames, near
Greenwich, a shot was fired by accident, which struck the royal
barge, and hurt a waterman near her. The French ambassador
being amazed, and all crying Treason, Treason ! yet she, with
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 299
That treason can but peep to what it would,
lets little of his will. — Tell me, Laertes,
i¥hy thou art thus incens'd; — Let him go, Ger-
trude;—
ipeak, man.
Laer. Where is my father ?
King. Dead.
Queen. But not by him.
King. Let him demand his fill.
Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
To hell, allegiance ! vows, to the blackest devil !
Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit!
[ dare damnation : To this point I stand, —
That both the worlds I give to negligence28,
L,et come what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd
Most thoroughly for my father.
King. Who shall stay you ?
Laer. My will, not all the world's :
\nd, for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
King. Good Laertes,
f you desire to know the certainty
)f your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge*
That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
vVinner and loser ?
Laer. None but his enemies.
King. Will you know them then ?
Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my
arms ;
n undaunted spirit, came to the open place of the barge, and
>ade them never fear, for if the shot were made at her, they durst
lot shoot again : such majesty had her presence, and such bold-
less her heart, that she despised fear, and was, as all princes are,
>r should be, so full of divine fullness, that guiltie mortality durst
lot behold her but with dazzled eyes.' — Henry Chettle's Eng-
and's Mourning Garment.
28 ' But let the frame of things disjoint, both theivorlds suffer.'
Macbeth.
300 HAMLET, ACT IV.
And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood 2Q.
King, Whv> now you speal
Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am most sensibly30 in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce31
As day does to your eye.
Danes. [ Within.] Let her come in
Laer. How now ! what noise is that ?
Enter Ophelia, fantastically dressed with Strau
and Flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains ! tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ! —
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weigh
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May 1
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heavens ! is't possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life ?
Nature is fine 32 in love ; and, where 'tis fine,
29 The folio reads politician instead of pelican. This fabulo
bird is not unfrequently made use of for purposes of poetic
illustration by our elder poets : Shakspeare has again refern
to it in King Richard II. and in King Lear : —
' 'Twas this flesh begot these pelican daughters.'
In the old play of King Leir, 1605, it is also used, but in a dill
rent sense : —
' I am as kind as is the pelican,
That kills itself to save her young ones' lives.'
30 Folio — sensible.
31 Peirce is the reading of the folio. The quarto has 'pear,
awkward contraction of appear. I do not see why appear is mo
intelligible. Indeed as level is here used for direct, Shakspean
usual meaning of the word, the reading of the quarto, prefeir
by Johnson and Steevens, is less proper.
32 ' Nature is fine in love.' The three concluding lines of tl
speech are not in the quarto. The meaning appears to be, Natu
is refined or subtilised by love, the senses are rendered mc
ethereal, and being thus refined, some precious portions of t
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 301
t sends some precious instance of itself
ifter the thing it loves.
Oph. They bore him barefaced on the bier ;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny : *
And in his grave rairtd many a tear ; —
?are you well, my dove !
Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade
revenge,
t could not move thus.
Oph. You must sing, Down-a-down, an you call
im a-down-a. O, how the wheel33 becomes it! it
3 the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.
lental energies fly off, or are sent after the beloved object ; when
ereft of that object they are lost to us, and we are left in a state
f mental privation : —
1 Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turned to folly.'
' Love is a smoke, rais'd with the fume of sighs j
Being urg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears :
What is it else? — a madness,' &c.
33 The wheel is the burthen of a ballad, from the Latin rota, a
ound, which is usually accompanied with a burthen frequently
epeated. Thus also in old French, roterie signified such a round
>r catch, and rotuenge, or rotruhenge, the burthen or refrain as it
s now called. Our old English term refrette, ' the foote of the
littie, averse often interlaced, or the burden of a song,' was pro-
•ably from refrain ; or from refresteler, to pipe over again. It
s used by Chaucer in The Testament of Love. This term was
lot obsolete in Cotgrave's time, though it would now be as difficult
o adduce an instance of its use as of the wheel, at the same time
he quotation, will show that the dotvn of a ballad was another
erm for the burthen. ' Refrain, the refret, burthen, or downe of
i ballad.' All this discussion is rendered necessary, becaase
Jteevens unfortunately forgot to note from whence he made the
ollowing extract, though he knew it was from the preface to
;ome black letter collection of songs or sonnets: — ' The song
vas accounted a good one, though it was not moche graced with
he wheele, which in no wise accorded with the subject matter
hereof.' Thus also Nicholas Breton, in his Toyes for Idle
lead, 1577:—
' That I may sing full merrily
Not heigh ho wele, but care away.'
U should be remembered that the old musical instrument called
302 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Laer. This nothing's more than matter.
Opk. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance
'pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies
that's for thoughts34.
a rote, from its wheel, was also termed vielle, quasi wheel. It mas
surely have been out of a mere spirit of controversy that Malon
affected to think that the spinning-wheel was alluded to b
Ophelia.
34 Our ancestors gave to almost every flower and plant it
emblematic meaning, and like the ladies of the east, made thei
almost as expressive as written language, in their hieroglyphics
sense. Perdita, in The Winter's Tale, distributes her flowers i
the same manner as Ophelia, and some of them with the sam
meaning. In The Handfull of Pleasant Delites, 1584, recentl
reprinted in Mr. Park's Heliconia, we have a ballad called ' i
Nosegaie alwaies sweet for Lovers to send for Tokens,' whei
we find : —
1 Rosemarie is for remembrance
Betweene us day and night ;
Wishing that I might alwaies have
You present in my sight.'
Rosemarie had this attribute because it was said to strengthe
the memory, and was therefore used as a token of remembranc
and affection between lovers, and was distributed as an emblei
both at weddings and funerals. Why pansies (pensees) ai
emblems of thoughts is obvious. Fennel was emblematic «
flattery, and ' Dare finocchio, to give fennel,' was in other won
' to flatter, to dissemble,' according to Florio. Thus in tl
ballad above cited : —
' Fennel is for flatterers,
An evil thing 'tis sure.'
Browne, in his Britannia's Pastorals, says : —
' The columbine, in tawny often taken,
Is then ascribed to such as are forsaken.'
Rue was for ruth or repentance. It was also commonly call*
herbgrace, probably from being accounted ' a present reinec
against all poison, and a potent auxiliary in exorcisms, all e\
things fleeing from it.' By wearing it with a difference (t
heraldic term for a mark of distinction) Ophelia may mean tb
the queen should wear it as a mark of repentance ; herself as
token of grief. The daisy was emblematic of a dissembler :-
* Next them grew the dissembling daisy, to warne such light
love wenches not to trust every fair promise that such anioroi
batchelors make.' — Greens Quip for an Upstart Courtier. Tl
violet is for faith fidness, and is thus characterised in The Lover
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 303
Laer. A document in madness; thoughts and
emembrance fitted.
Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines: —
lere's rue for you; and here's some for me: — we
lay call it, herb of grace o'Sundays: — you may
fear your rue with a difference. — There's a daisy :
—I would give you some violets ; but they withered
11, when my father died: — They say, he made a
;ood end,
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy, —
[Sings.
Laer. Thought35 and affliction, passion, hell it-
self,
me turns to favour, and to prettiness.
Oph. And will he not come again ? [Sings.
And will he not come again ?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death- bed,
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan ;
God 'a mercy on his soul 36 /
"Josegaie. In Bion's beautiful elegy on the death of Adonis,
dr. Todd has pointed out : —
• TcavTa <rbv ccvtu)
Qq Tt/vog TB&vaKs, ko.1 avSia rcavr efJHxpavSrT).'
35 Thought, among our ancestors, was used for grief, care,pen-
iveness. ' Curarum volvere in pectore. He will die for sorrow
md thought.'' — Buret. Thus in Antony and Cleopatra: —
' Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus ?
' Eno. Think and die.'
iee note on that passage, vol. vii. p. 468, note 1.
36 Poor Ophelia in her madness remembers the ends of many
)ld popular ballads. ' Bonny Robin' appears to have been a.
"avourite, for there were many others written to that tune. The
editors have not traced the present one. It is introduced in
304 HAMLET, ACT IV.
And of .all christian souls ! I pray God. God b(
wi' you ! [Exit Ophelia
Laer. Do you see this, O God ?
King. Laertes, I must commune37 with your grief
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
To you in satisfaction ; but, if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labour with your soul
To give it due content38.
Laer. Let this be so ;
His means of death, his obscure funeral39, —
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones,
Eastward Hoe, written by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston,wber
some parts of this play are apparently burlesqued. Hamlet i
the name given to a foolish footman in the same scene. I knc
not why it should be considered an attack on Shakspeare ; it wf
the usual licence of comedy to sport with every thing serious an
even sacred. Hamlet Travestie may as well be called an invid
ous attack on Shakspeare.
37 The folio reads common, which is only a varied orthograpb
of the same word. ' We will devise and common of these ma
ters.' — Baret.
38 Thus in the quarto 1603 :—
' King. Content you, good Leartes, for a time,
Although I know your grief is as a flood,
Brim full of sorrow, but forbear a while,
And think already the revenge is done
On him that makes you such a hapless son.
' Lear. You have prevail 'd, my lord, a while I'll strive,
To bury grief within a tomb of wrath,
Which once unhearsed, then the world shall hear
Leartes had a father he held dear.
• King. No more of that, ere many days be done
You shall hear that you do not dream upon.'
39 Folio — burial.
SC. V. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 305
^o noble rite, nor formal ostentation40, —
>y to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call't in question.
King. So you shall ;
Vnd where the offence is, let the great axe fall.
pray you, go with me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Another Room in the same.
Enter Horatio and a Servant.
Hor. What are they that would speak with me?
Serv. Sailors l, sir ;
They say, they have letters for you.
Hor. Let them come in. —
[Exit Servant.
do not know from what part of the world
'. should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
Enter Sailors.
1 Sail God bless you, sir.
Hor. Let him bless thee too.
1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a
etter for you, sir : it comes 2 from the ambassador
hat was bound for England; if your name be Ho-
atio, as I am let to know it is.
Hor. [Reads.] Horatio, when thou shalt have
overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the
ting ; they have letters for him. Ere we were two
lays old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment
jave us chase: Finding ourselves too slow of sail,
40 The funerals of knights and persons of rank were made
vith great ceremony and ostentation formerly. Sir John Haw-
uns (himself of the order) observes that ' the sword, the helmet,
he gauntlet, spurs, and tabard are still hung over the grave of
very knight.'
1 Quarto — sea-faring men. 2 Folio — it came.
VOL. X. E E
306 HAMLET, ACT IV.
we put on a compelled valour ; and in the grapple 1
boarded them : on the instant, they got clear of om
ship ; so I alone became their prisoner. They havi
dealt with me like thieves of mercy ; but they kneu
what they did; I am to do a good turn for them
Let the king have the letters I have sent ; and repah
thou to me with as much haste as thou would1 st fix
death. I have words to speak in thine 3 ear, wil
make thee dumb ; yet are they much too light for tk
bore 4 of the matter. These good fellows will brim
thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildensten
hold their course for England: of them I have muc>
to tell thee. Farewell.
He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.
Come, I will give you way for these your letters ;
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
To him from whom you brought them. [Exeun
SCENE VII. Another Room in the same.
Enter King and Laertes.
King. Now must your conscience my acquittanc
seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend ;
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he, which hath your noble father slain,
Pursu'd my life.
Laer. It well appears : — But tell me,
Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful1 and so capital in nature,
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things els
You mainly were stirr'd up.
3 Folio — your.
4 The bore is the caliber of a gan. The matter (sajs Haml
would carry heavier words.
1 Quarto — Criminal. Greatness is omitted in the folio.
SC. VII. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 307
King. O, for two special reasons ;
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
mother,
Lives almost by his looks ; and for myself,
^My virtue, or my plague, be it either which),
She is so conjunctive to my life and soul,
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a publick count I might not go,
Is, the great love the general gender2 bear him :
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces 3 ; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind 4,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aira'd them.
Laer. And so have I a noble father lost ;
A sister driven into desperate terms ;
Whose worth, if praises may go back again 5,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections: — But my revenge will come.
King. Break not your sleeps for that : you must
not think,
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger6,
2 i. e. the ' common race of the people.' We have the general
and the million in other places in the same sense.
3 * Would, like the spring which turneth wood to stone, con-
vert his fetters into graces :' punishment would only give him
more grace in their opinion. The quarto reads work for would.
4 ' my arrows
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind.'
• Lighte shaftes cannot stand in a rough wind.' — Ascham's Tox-
ophilus, 1589, p. 57.
5 * If praises may go back again.' ' If I may praise what has
been, but is now to be found no more.'
6 • Idcirco stolidam praebet tibi vellere barbam
Jupiter V Persius, Sat. ii.
308 HAMLET, ACT IV.
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more :
I loved your father, and we love ourself ;
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine, —
How now 7 ? what news ?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet :
This to your majesty; this to the queen.
King. From Hamlet ! who brought them?
Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say : I saw them not;
They were given me by Claudio, he received them
Of him that brought them8.
King. Laertes, you shall hear them : —
Leave us. [Exit Messenger.
[Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know, lam
set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg
leave to see your kingly eyes : when I shall, first ask-
ing your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of
my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet.
What should this mean ! Are all the rest come back ?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing ?
Laer. Know you the hand ?
King. "Tis Hamlet's character. Naked, —
And, in a postscript here, he says, alone:
Can you advise me ?
Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.
King. If it be so, Laertes,
As how should it be so? how otherwise? —
Will you be rul'd by me ?
7 How now is omitted in the quarto : as is letters in tbe nexi
speech.
. e This hemistich is not in the folio.
SC. VII. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 309
Laer. Ay, my lord ;
So you will not o'errule me to a peace9.
King. To thine own peace. If he be now re-
turn'd, —
As checking 10 at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, — I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall :
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe ;
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it, accident.
Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd ;
The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.
King. It falls right.
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine : your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him,
As did that one ; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege 11.
Laer. What part is that, my lord ?
King. A very riband in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too ; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
9 First folio omitting Ay, my lord, reads If so you'll not o'er-
rule me to a peace.
10 To check, to hold off, or fly from, as in fear. It is a phrase
taken from falconry : — ' For who knows not, quoth she, that this
hawk, which comes now so fair to the fist, may to-morrow check
at the lure.' — Hindis Eliosto Libidinoso, 1606.
11 Of the unworthiest siege, of the lowest rank : siege for seat
or place : —
' I fetch my hirth
From men of royal seigeS Othello.
E E2
310 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Importing health and graveness12. — Two months
since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy, —
I have seen myself, and serv'd against the French,
And they can well on horseback : but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't ; he grew unto his seat ;
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
With the brave beast : so far he topp'd my thought
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks13,
Come short of what he did.
Laer. A Norman was't?
King. A Norman.
Laer. Upon my life, Lamord.
King. The very same.
Laer. I know him well : he is the brooch, indeed
And gem of all the nation.
King. He made confession of you ;
And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise in your defence14,
And for your rapier most especial,
That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match you: the scrimers15of thei
nation,
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them : Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this,
12 i. e. implying or denoting gravity and attention to health. I
we should not rather read wealth for health.
13 ' That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks.'
' That I, in imagining and describing his feats,' &c.
14 Science of defence, i. e. fencing.
15 Scrimers, fencers, from escrimeur, Fr. - This unfavourable
description of French swordsmen is not in the folio.
SC. VII. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 311
Lacr. What out of this, my lord ?
. King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
Laer. Why ask you this ?
King. Not that I think, you did not love your
father ;
But that I know, love is begun by time16;
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it:
And nothing is at a like goodness still ;
For goodness, growing to a plurisy 17,
Dies in his own too-much : That we would do,
We should do when we would ; for this would changes,
And hath abatements and delays as many,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents ;
And then this should is like a spendthrift's sigh18,
16 ' But that I know love is begun by time,' &c. ' As love is
begun by time, and has its gradual increase, so time qualifies and
abates it.' Passages of proof are transactions of daily experi-
ence. The next ten lines are not in the folio.
17 Plurisy is superabundance ; our ancestors used the word in
this sense, as if it came from plus, pluris, and not from irXevpa.
The disease was formerly thought to proceed from too much
blood flowing to the part affected : —
' in a word,
Thy plurisy of goodness is thy ill.'
Massinger's Unnatural Combat.
18 Johnson says it is a prevalent notion ' that sighs impair the
strength, and wear out the animal powers.' Steevens makes a
ludicrous mistake in the quotation from the ' Governal of Helth,'
wherein he takes sythes (times) to signify sighs. Shakspeare in
King Henry VI. has ' blood-consuming sighs.' And in Fenton's
Tragical Discourses : — ' Your scorching sighes that have already
drained your body of his wholesome humoures.' The reading
of the old copies, which I have restored, had been altered in the
modern editions to ' a spendthrift sigh,' without reason. Mr.
Blakew ay justly observes, that • Sorrow for neglected opportu-
312 HAMLET, ACT IV.
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o'the ulcer
Hamlet comes back ; What would you undertake,
To show yourself in deed your father's son
More than in words ?
Laer. To cut his throat i'the church,
King. No place, indeed, should murder sanc-
tuarize ;
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber:
Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home:
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you ; bring you, in fine, to-
gether,
And wager o'er your heads : he, being remiss 19,
Most generous and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils ; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated 20, and, in a pass of practice 21
Requite him for your father.
Laer. I will do't:
And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,
nities and time abused seems most aptly compared to the sigh c
a spendthrift — good resolutions not carried into effect are deepl
injurious to the moral character. Like sighs, they hurt b
easing, they unburden the mind and satisfy the conscience, with
out producing any effect upon the conduct.'
19 * He being remiss.' He being not vigilant ; or incautious
20 i. e. unblunted, to hate, or rather ' to rebate, was to inak
dull. Aciem ferre hebetare.' Thus in Love's Labour's Lost w
have —
' That honour which shall hate his scythe's keen edge.'
And in Measure for Measure : —
* rebate and blunt his natural edge.'
21 Pass of practice is an insidious thrust. Shakspeare, i
common with many of his cotemporaries, always uses practice ft
art, deceit, treachery.
SC. VII. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 313
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
[Jnder the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal : I'll touch my point
With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slightly,
ft may be death22.
King. Let's further think of this ;
Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means,
May fit us to our shape : If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
Twere better not assay 'd : therefore this project
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,
[f this should blast in proof23. Soft; — let me see : —
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings24,
[ ha't :
When in your motion you are hot and dry,
As make your bouts more violent to that end,)
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd25 him
A chalice for the nonce ; whereon but sipping,
[f he by chance escape your venom'd stuck26,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise27 ?
22 Ritson has exclaimed with just indignation and abhorrence
igainst the villauous assassinlike treachery of Laertes in this
lorrid plot: he observes * There is more occasion that he should
)e pointed out for an object of abhorrence, as he is a character
ve are led to respect and admire in some preceding scenes.' In
he old quarto of 1603 this contrivance originates with the
ring :—
' When you are hot, in midst of all your play,
Among the foils shall a keen rapier lie,
Steeped in a mixture of deadly poison,
That if it draws but the least dram of blood
In any part of him he cannot live.'
23 If this should blast in proof, as fire arms sometimes burst in
proving their strength.
24 Cunning is skill.
*5 The quarto reads prefar'd; the folio prepar'd. The modern
•ditors read preferr'd, but I think without good reason.
26 A stuck is a thrust. Stoccata, Ital. Sometimes called a
faccado in English.
' But stay, what noise?' these Words are not in the folio.
314 HAMLET, ACT IV.
Enter Queen.
How now, sweet queen ?
Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow : — Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
Laer. Drown'd! O, where?
Queen.There is a willow grows ascaunt28 the brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream :
Therewith fantastick garlands did she make
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples29;
That liberal 30 shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them :
There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ;
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up :
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes 31 ;
As one incapable 32 of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indu'd 33
Unto that element : but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
28 Ascaunt, thus the quarto: the folio reads aslant. Ascauni
is the same as askew, sideways, overthwart; a travers, Fr.
29 The ancient botanical name of the long purples was testicul
morionis, or orchis priapisms. The grosser name to which tl
queen alludes is sufficiently known in many parts of Englan
It had kindred appellations in other languages. In Sussex
is said to he called dead men's hands. Its various names may 1
seen in Lyte's Herbal, 1578, or in Cotgrave's Dictionary.
30 i. e. licentious. See Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. Sc.
and Othello, Act ii. Sc. 1.
31 The quarto reads ' snatches of old lauds' i. e. hymr
Hymns of praise were so called from the psalm Laudate Don
num.
32 i. e. unsusceptible of it. See note 21, p. 276.
33 Indu'd was anciently used in the sense of endowed wi
qualities of any kind, as in the phrase ' a child indued with t
grace and dexteritie that his father had.' Shakspeare mi
however, have used it for habited, accustomed.
SC. VII. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 315
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Laer. Alas then, she is drown'd?
Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.
Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet34
It is our trick ; nature her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will : when these are gone,
The woman will be out35. — Adieu, my lord !
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
!But that this folly drowns 3° it. [Exit.
King. Let's follow, Gertrude :
How much I had to do to calm his rage !
Now fear I, this will give it start again;
Therefore, let's follow. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. A Church Yard.
Enter Two Clowns, with Spades, Sfc.
1 Clo. Is she to be buried in christian burial, that
wilfully seeks her own salvation ?
2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her
grave straight 1 : the crowner hath set on her, and
finds it christian burial.
54 Thus the qaarto 1603 :—
• Therefore I will not drown thee in my tears,
Revenge it is must yield this heart relief,
For woe begets woe, and grief hangs on grief.'
35 Thus in King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 6 :—
' But all my mother came into my eyes,
And gave me up to tears.'
36 The folio reads — doubts it.
1 How Johnson could think that any particular mode of
making Ophelia's grave was meant I cannot imagine. Nothing
316 HAMLET, ACT V.
1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned
herself in her own defence ?
2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.
1 Clo. It must be se qffendendo; it cannot be
else. For here lies the point : If I drown myself
wittingly, it argues an act; and an act hath three
branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform2;
Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.
1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water;
good; here stands the man; good : If the man go
to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill
he, he goes ; mark you that : but if the water come
to him, and drown him, he drowns not himself:
Argal, he, that is not guilty of his own death,
shortens not his own life.
2 Clo. But is this law ?
is so common as this mode of expression : straight is merely a
contraction of straightway, immediately. Numerous example*
are to be found in Shakspeare, one may suffice from this ver)
play, in Act iii. Sc. 4, Polonius says : —
' He will come straight.'
And Malone cites from G. Herbert's Jacula Prudentium, 1651
— ' There is no churchyard so handsome that a man would desin
straight to be buried there.'
2 Warburtonsavs that this is a ridicule on scholastic division.'
without distinction ; and of distinctions without difference
Shakspeare certainly aims at the legal subtleties used upoi
occasion of inquests. Sir John Hawkins points out the case o
Dame Hales, in Plowden's Commentaries. Her husband Sir Jame
drowned himself in a fit of insanity (produced, it was supposed
by his having been one of the judges who condemned Lady Jan<
Grey), and the question was about the forfeiture of a lease
There was a great deal of this law logic used on the occasion, a
whether he was the agent or patient ; or in other words (as th
clown says), whether he went to the water, or the water came t
him. Malone thinks because Plowden was in law French tha
Shakspeare could not read him ! and yet Malone has shown tha
Shakspeare is very fond of legal phraseology, and supposes tha j
he must have passed some part of his life in the office of a
attorney.
SCI. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 317
1 Clo. Ay, marry is't ; crowner's-quest law.
2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't ? If this had
not been a gentlewoman, she should have been
buried out of christian burial.
1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st : And the more
pity ; that great folks shall have countenance in
this world to drown or hang themselves more than
their even- christian 3. Come, my spade. There is
no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and
grave-makers : they hold up Adam's profession.
2 Clo. Was he a gentleman ?
1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms.
2 Clo. Why, he had none4.
1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou
understand the scripture ? The scripture says, Adam
digged : Could he dig without arms ? I'll put another
question to thee : if thou answerest me not to the
purpose, confess thyself
2 Clo. Go to.
1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either
the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter ?
2 Clo. The gallows- maker, for that frame out-
lives a thousand tenants.
1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the
3 Even-christian, for fellow-christian, was the old mode of ex-
pression ; and is to be found in Chancer and the Chroniclers.
Wiclifte has even-servant for fellow-servant. The fact is, that
even, like, and equal were synonymous. I will add one more
ancient example of the phrase to those cited by Malone : —
' For when a man wol rijt knowe,
Al maner of dette that he owe,
Bothe to God that is ful of mijt
And to his even cristen rijt.'
HampoWs Speculum Vitce.
In Alfred's Saxon version of S. Gregory's Pastoralis Cura, we
have epon--(Seow, consocius.
4 This speech and the next, as far as arms, is not in the
quarto.
VOL. X. F F
318 HAMLET, ACT V.
gallows does well : But how does it well ? it does
well to those that do ill : now thou dost ill, to say,
the gallows is built stronger than the church :
argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again :
come.
2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship-
wright, or a carpenter ?
1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke5.
2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell.
1 Clo. To't.
2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.
1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it ; for
your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating :
and, when you are asked this question next, say, a
grave-maker ; the houses that he makes, last till
doomsday. Go, get thee to Vaughan and fetch me
a stoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown.
1 Clown digs, and sings.
In youth, when I did love, did love 6,
Methought, it was very sweet,
To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove
0, methought, there was nothing meet.
5 ' Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.' This was a common phrase
for giving over or ceasing to do a thing, a metaphor derived from
the unyoking of oxen at the end of their labour. Thus in a dittie
of the Workmen of Dover, preserved in the additions to Holin-
shed: —
• My bow is broke, I wonld unyoke,
My foot is sore, I can worke no more.'
These pithy questions were doubtless the fireside amusement ol
our rustic ancestors. Steevens mentions a collection of them ir
print, preserved in a -volume of scarce tracts in the universit}
library at Cambridge, D. 5. 2. ' The innocence of these de
maundes joyous (he says) may deserve a praise not always due t(
their delicacy.'
6 The original ballad from whence these stanzas are taken i:
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 319
Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business?
he sings at grave-making.
Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of
easiness.
Ham. Tis e'en so : the hand of little employment
hath the daintier sense.
1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps.
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.
[Throws up a scull.
Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could
sing once : How the knave jowls it to the ground,
as if it were Cain's jawbone, that did the first
murder! This might be the pate of a politician,
which this ass now o'erreaches7; one that would
circumvent God, might it not?
Hor. It might, my lord.
Ham. Or of a courtier ; which could say, Good-
morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord ? This
might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
printed in Tottel's Miscellany, or • Songes and Sonnettes' by
Lord Surrey and others, 1575. The ballad is attributed to Lord
Vaux, and is printed by Dr. Percy in the first volume of his.
Reliques of Antient Poetry. The ohs and the ahs were most
probably meant to express the interruption of the song by the
< forcible emission of the grave digger's breath at each stroke of
the mattock. The original runs thus : —
' I lothe that I did love ;
In youth that I thought swete :
As time requires for my behove,
Methinks they are not mete.
' For age with stealing steps
Hath claude me with his crowch >
And lusty youthe away he leaps,
As there had bene none such.'
7 The folio reads — ore-offices.
320 HAMLET, ACT V.
such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it ; might
it not8?
Hor. Ay, my lord.
Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's9;
chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a
sexton's spade : Here's fine revolution, an we had
the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
the breeding, but to play at loggats10 with them?
mine ache to think on't.
1 Clo. A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, [Sings.
For — and a shrouding sheet :
0, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
[Throws up a scull.
Ham. There's another : Why may not that be
the scull of a lawyer ? Where be his quiddits11 now,
his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks?
why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock
him about the sconce12 with a dirty shovel, and will
not tell him of his action of battery ? Humph ! This
fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with
My lord, you gave
Good words the other day of a bay courser
I rode on ; it is yours, because you liked it.'
Timon of Athens, Act i.
9 The skull that was my lord such-a-one's is now my lady
worm's.
10 Loggets, small logs or pieces of wood. Hence loggets was
the name of an ancient rustic game, in which a stake was fixed
in the ground at which loggats were thrown ; in short, a rudei
kind of quoit play.
11 Quiddits are quirks, or subtle questions ; and quillets are
nice and frivolous distinctions. The etymology of this last
foolish word has plagued many learned heads. I think that Blount
in his Glossography, clearly points out quodlibet as the origin o
it. Bishop Wilkins calls a quillet ' a frivolousness ;' and Cole?
in his Latin Diet, res frivola. I find the quarto of 1603 ha:
quirks instead of quiddits.
12 See Comedy of Errors, Act i. Sc. 2, p. 139, note fi.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 321
his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double
vouchers 13, his recoveries : Is this the fine of his
fines, and the recovery of his recoveries 14, to have
his fine pate full of fine dirt ? will his vouchers
vouch him no more of his purchases, and double
ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of
indentures ? The very conveyances of his lands will
hardly lie in this box ; and must the inheritor him-
self have no more ? ha ?
Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.
Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep- skins 1
Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves-skins too.
Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek
out assurance 15 in that. I will speak to this fellow :
— Whose grave's this, sirrah ?
1 Clo. Mine, sir. —
0, a pit of clay J or to be made [Sings.
For such a guest is meet.
Ham. I think it be thine, indeed, for thou liest
in't.
1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
yours : for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is
13 Shakspeare here is profuse of his legal learning. Ritson, a
lawyer, shall interpret for him : — ' A recovery with double
voucher, is the one usually suffered, and is so called from two
persons (the latter of whom is always the common cryer, or some
such inferior person) being successively voucher, or called upon
to warrant the tenant's title. Both fines and recoveries are fictions
of law, used to convert an estate tail into a fee simple. Statutes
are (not acts of parliament) but statutes merchant, and staple,
particular modes of recognizance or acknowledgment for securing
debts, which thereby become a charge upon the party's land.
Statutes and recognizances are constantly mentioned together in
the covenants of a purchase deed.
14 [' Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his reco-
veries,'] omitted in the quarto.
15 A quibble is intended. Deeds (of parchment) are called
.he common assurances of the realm.
F F 2
322 HAMLET, ACT V.
thine : 'tis for the dead, not for the quick ; there-
fore thou liest.
1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again,
from me to you.
Ham. What man dost thou dig it for ?
1 Clo. For no man, sir.
Ham. What woman then ?
1 Clo. For none neither.
Ham. Who is to be buried in't ?
1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir ; but, rest her
soul, she's dead.
Ham. How absolute the knave is ! we must speak
by the card16, or equivocation will undo us. By
the lord, Horatio, these three 17 years I have taken
note of it ; the age is grown so picked 18, that the
toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the
courtier, he galls his kibe. — How long hast thou
been a grave -maker ?
1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't
that day that our last king Hamlet overcame For-
tinbras 19.
Ham. How long's that since?
1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell
that : It was that very day that young Hamlet was
born20: he that is mad, and sent into England,
16 ' To speak by the card,' is to speak precisely, by rule, oi
according to a prescribed course. It is a metaphor from the sea
man's card or chart by which he guides his course.
17 Seven, quarto 1603.
18 Picked is curious, over nice. Thus in the Cambridge Did
1594 : — ' Conquisitus, exquisite, and picked, perfite, fine, dainty
curious.' See King John, Act i. Sc. 1, p. 339.
19 * Look you, here's a skull hath been here this dozen year
let me see, ay, ever since our last King Hamlet slew Fortei)
brasse in combat : young Hamlet's father, he that's mad.' Quart
of 1G03. It will be seen that the poet places this event thirl
years ago in the present copy. See the next note by Sir Williai
JBIackstone.
•° * By this scene it appears that Hamlet was then thirty yeai
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 323
Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England ?
1 Clo. Why, because he was mad : he shall re-
cover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great
matter there.
Ham. Why?
1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there ; there the
men are as mad as he 21.
Ham. How came he mad ?
1 Clo. Very strangely, they say.
Ham. How strangely?
1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Ham. Upon what ground ?
1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sex-
ton here, man, and boy, thirty years.
Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere
he rot?
1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die
(as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that
will scarce hold the laying in), he will last you some
eight year, or nine year : a tanner will last you nine
year.
Ham. Why he more than another ?
1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his
trade, that he will keep out water a great while ;
and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson
dead body. Here's a scull now hath lain you i'the
earth three-and- twenty years.
Ham. Whose was it?
1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was ; Whose
do you think it was?
3ld, and knew Yorick well, who had been dead twenty three
years. And yet in the beginning of the play he is spoken of as
a very young man, one that designed to go back to school,
i. e. to the university of Wittenburgh. The poet in the fifth act
tiad forgot what he wrote in the first.' — Blacistotie.
21 ' Nimirum insanus paucis videatur; eo quod
Maxima pars hominum morbo jactatur eodem.'
Horat. Sat. 3, Lib. ii.
324 HAMLET, ACT V.
Ham. Nay, I know not.
1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue, he
poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once.
This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's
jester.
Ham. This ? [ Takes the Scull.
1 Clo. E'en that.
Ham. Alas, poor Yorick! — I knew him, Ho-
ratio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent
fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand
times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination
it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips,
that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be
your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your
flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the
table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own
grinning ~~ ? quite chap-fallen ? Now get you to my
lady's chamber23, and tell her, let her paint an inch
thick, to this favour 24 she must come ; make her
laugh at that. — 'Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
Hor. What's that, my lord ?
Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander look'd o'this
fashion i'the earth ?
Hor. E'en so.
Ham. And smelt so ? pah !
[ Throws down the SculL
Hor. E'en so, my lord.
Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio !
Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of
Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole ?
Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to con-
sider so.
Ham. No, 'faith, not a jot ; but to follow him
thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead
2- Folio— jeering. 23 Quarto — table.
•{ Favour is countenance, complexion.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 325
:: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was
tuned, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is
arth ; of earth we make loam : And why of that
3am, whereto he was converted, might they not
top a beer barrel ?
Imperious25 Caesar, dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away :
O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ~6 1
3ut soft ! but soft ! aside : — Here comes the king,
Inter Priests, Sfc. in Procession; the Corpse of
Ophelia, Laertes, and Mourners, following ;
King, Queen, their Trains, fyc.
The queen, the courtiers : Who is this they follow?
And with such maimed rites ! This doth betoken,
•The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand
Fordo27 its own life. 'Twas of some estate28.
Uouch we awhile, and mark.
[Retiring with Horatio.
Laer. What ceremony else ?
Ham. That is Laertes,
! \. very noble youth : Mark.
Laer. What ceremony else ?
1 Priest29. Her obsequies have been as far en-
larg'd
25 Imperial is substituted in the folio. Vide Troilus and
ressida, Act iv. Sc. 5, p. 425, note 27.
26 A flaw is a violent gust of wind. See Coriolanus, Act v.
Sc. 3, p. 254, note 8.
27 To fordo is to undo, to destroy. Thus in Othello : —
1 This is the night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.'
Would to God it might be leful for me to for doo myself, or to
make an end of me.' — Acolastus, 1529.
28 Estate for rank. Estates was a common term for persons
of rank.
29 Quarto— Doctor.
326 HAMLET, ACT V.
As we have warranty : Her death was doubtful ;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers,
Shards30, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants31,
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.
Laer. Must there no more be done?
1 Priest. No more be done
We should profane the service of the dead,
To sing a requiem 32, and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.
Laer. Lay her i'the earth; —
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh,
May violets spring33 ! — I tell thee, churlish priest,
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howlingr.
30 Shards, quasi shreds (as Tooke says), the past participle (
the verb r-cyrian, to sheer, cut off, or divide. It does not onl
mean fragments of pots and tiles, but rubbish of any kim
Baret has ' shardes of stones, fragmentum lapidis ;' and ' sharde.
or pieces of stones broken and shattred, rabbel or rubbish of ol
houses.' Our version of the Bible has preserved to us po
sherds ; and I have heard bricklayers, in Surrey and Sussex, us
the compounds tile-sherds, slate-sherds, &c.
31 i. e. garlands. Still used in most northern languages, bi
no other example of its use among us has yet offered itself. ]
is thought that Shakspeare may have met with the word in som
old history of Hamlet, which furnished him with his fable. Tb
editor of the first folio changed this unusual word for rites, a les
appropriate word. Warburton boldly substituted chants, an
Mr. Alexander Chalmers affirms that this is the true word.'
32 A requiem is a mass sung for the rest of the soul of tb
dead. So called from the words —
* Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine/ &c.
part of the service.
33 ' e tumulo fortunataque favilla
Nascentur violae V Persius, Sat. i.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 327
Ham. What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet : Farewell !
[Scattering Flowers.
hop'd, thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ;
'. thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
Ynd not have strew'd thy grave.
Laer. O, treble woe
7all ten times treble on that cursed head,
Vhose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Oepriv'd thee off! — Hold off the earth awhile,
?ill I have caught her once more in mine arms :
[Leaps into the Grave.
iow pile your dust upon the quick and dead ;
'ill of this flat a mountain you have made
"o o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
)f blue Olympus.
Ham. [Advancing.'] What is he, whose grief
Sears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
jke wonder- wounded hearers ? this is I,
lamlet the Dane. [leaps into the Grave.
Laer. The devil take thy soul !
[Grappling with him.
Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;
'or, though I am not splenetive and rash,
ret have I in me something dangerous,
Vhich let thy wisdom fear : Hold off thy hand.
King. Pluck them asunder.
Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet !
All. Gentlemen,
Hor. Good my lord, be quiet.
[The Attendants part them, and they come
out of the Grave.
Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,
ntil my eyelids will no longer wag.
328 HAMLET, ACT V.
Queen. O my son ! what theme ?
Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love
Make up my sum. — What wilt thou do for her?
King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Queen. For love of God, forbear him.
Ham. Zounds, show me what thou'lt do :
Woo't weep ? woo't fight ? woo't fast ? woo't tear
thyself?
Woo't drink up Esile 34, eat a crocodile ?
I'll do't. — Dost thou come here to whine ?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I :
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
34 The quarto of 1603 reads: — ' Wilt drink up vessels:' anc
instead of Ossa, Oosell. Some of the commentators have sup
posed that hy esill Hamlet means vinegar. But surely the strain o
exaggeration and rant of the rest of the speech requires some mon
impossible feat than that of drinking up vinegar. What river, lake
or firth Shakspeare meant to designate is uncertain, perhaps th<
Issel, but the firth of Iyse is nearest to his scene of action, ant
near enough in name. What the late editors meant by thei
strange contraction woult I know not. Mr. Giffbrd observe
that they appear none of them to have understood the grammati
cal construction of the passage. Woo't or woot'o, in the northen
counties, is the common contraction of wouldst thou, and this i
the reading of the old copies. This sort of hyperbole Mai on
has shown was common with our ancient poets : —
' Come drink up Rhine, Thames, and Meander dry.'
Eastward Hoe, 1G09 .
' Else would I set my mouth to Tygris streams,
And drink up overflowing Euphrates.'
Greene's Orlando Furioso, 1599.
' Sooner shall thou drink the ocean dry
Than conquer Malta/ Marlowe's Jew of Malta.
Shakspeare also in King Richard II. : —
• The task he undertakes
Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry.'
And in Troilus and Cressida: — ' When we vow to weep sea
live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers,' &c.
SC. I. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 329
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen. This is mere madness :
And thus a while the fit will work on him ;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclosed35,
His silence will sit drooping.
Ham. Hear you, sir ;
What is the reason that you use me thus !
I lov'd you ever : But it is no matter ;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. [Exit.
King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon
him. — [Exit Horatio.
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech ;
[To Laertes.
We'll put the matter to the present push. —
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. —
This grave shall have a living monument :
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Hall in the Castle.
Entei- Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham. So much for this, sir : now shall you see
the other; —
You do remember all the circumstance ?
Hor. Remember it, my lord !
Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
35 See note 30 on Act iii. Sc. 1, p. 244. The golden couplets
alludes to the dove only laying two eggs. The young nestlings
when first disclosed are only covered with a yellow down, and the
mother rarely leaves the nest, in consequence of the tenderness
of her young.
VOL. X. G G
330 HAMLET, ACT V.
That would not let me sleep : methought, I lay
Worse than the mutines 1 in the bilboes2. Rashly,
And prais'd be rashness for it, — Let us know,
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall 3 : and that should
teach us,
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.
Hor. That is most certain.
Ham. Up from my cabin,
My sea-gown 4 scarf'd about me, in the dark
Grop'd I to find out them : had my desire ;
Finger'd their packet : and, in fine, withdrew
To mine own room again : making so bold,
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
Their grand commission ; where I found, Horatio,
A royal knavery; an exact command, —
Larded with many several sorts of reasons, —
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
1 i. e. mutineers. See King John, Act ii. Sc. 2.
2 The bilboes were oars of iron with fetters annexed to them
by which mutinous or disorderly sailors were anciently linkec
together. The word is derived from Bilboa, in Spain, when
implements of iron and steel were fabricated. To understanc
Shakspeare's allusion, it should be known that as these fetter;
connected the legs of the offenders very closely together, theii
attempts to rest must be as fruitless as those of Hamlet, ii
whose mind there was a kind of fighting that would not let hin
sleep. Every motion of one must disturb his partner in confine
ment. The bilboes are still shown in the Tower, among the othe:
spoils of the Spanish Armada.
3 To pall was to fade or fall away ; to become, as it were
dead, or without spirit : from the old French pasler. Thus ii
Antony and Cleopatra : —
• I'll never follow thy palVd fortunes more.'
See vol. viii. p. 437, note 12.
4 Malone has told us that the sea-gown appears to have beei
the usual dress of seamen in Shakspeare's time ; but not a won
of what it was like. • Esclavine (says Cotgrave), a sea-gowne
a coarse high collar'd and shortsleeved gowne, reaching to th<
mid-leg, and used mostly by seamen and sailors.'
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 331
With, ho! such bugs5 and goblins in my life, — •
That, on the supervise 6, no leisure bated,
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
My head should be struck off.
Hot. Is't possible ?
Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more
leisure.
But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed ?
Hot. Ay, 'beseech you.
Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,
Or7 I could make a prologue to my brains,
They had begun the play ; — I sat me down ;
Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair:
I once did hold it, as our statists 8 do,
1 A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service9: Wilt thou know
The effect of what I wrote ?
5 ' With, ho ! such hugs and goblins in my life.' ' With such
causes of terror arising from my character and designs.' Bugs
were no less terrific than goblins. We now call them bugbears.
6 ' on the supervise, no leisure bated.' The supervise is
the looking over; no leisure hated means without any abatement
or intermission of time.
7 Or for ere, before. See Tempest, Aot i. Sc. 2, p. 12.
8 Statists are statesmen. Blackstone says, that ' most of our
great men of Shakspeare's time wrote very bad hands; their
secretaries very neat ones.' This must be taken with some
qualification ; for Elizabeth's two most powerful ministers, Lei-
cester and Burleigh, both wrote good hands. It is certain that
there were some who did write most wretched scrawls, but pro-
bably not from affectation ; though it was accounted a mecha-
nical and vulgar accomplishment to write a fair liand. The
worst and most unintelligible scrawls I have met with, are Sir
Richard Sackville's, in Elizabeth's time; and the miserable
scribbling of Secretary Conway, of whom James said they had
jiven him a secretary that could neither write nor read.
9 Yeoman's service I take to be good substantial service. The
incient yeomen were famous for their staunch valour in the
Sield ; and Sir Thomas Smyth says, they were ' the stable troop
)f footmen that affraide all France.'
332 HAMLET, ACT V.
Hor. Ay, good my lord.
Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king, —
As England was his faithful tributary ;
As love between them like the palm might flourish ;
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear,
And stand a comma10 'tween their amities;
And many such like ases of great charge, —
That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
Without debatement further, more, or less,
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
Not shriving-time allow'd11.
Hor. How was this seal'd
Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant ;
I had my father's signet in my purse,
Which was the model of that Danish seal :
Folded the writ up in form of the other ;
Subscrib'd it; gave 'tthe impression ; plac'd it safely
The changeling never known : Now, the next day
Was our seafight ; and what to this was sequent
Thou know'st already.
Hor. So Guildenstern and Hosencrantz go to't
Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this em
ployment;
They are not near my conscience; their defeat
Does by their own insinuation grow:
'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites.
Hor. Why, what a king is this !
Ham. Does it not, think thee, stand me now upon I
10 [ stand a comma 'tween their amities.] This is odd
expressed, as Johnson observes : but the meaning appears to I
• Stand as a comma, i. e. as a note of connexion between the
amities, to prevent them from being brought to a period.'
11 [Not shriving-time allow'd.] That is, without allowii
time for the confession of their sins.
12 [Bethink thee, does it not become inctimbent upon me to i
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 333
He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother ;
Popp'd in between the election and my hopes ;
Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
And with such cozenage ; is't not perfect conscience,
To quit him with this arm ; and is't not to be damn'd,
To let this canker of our nature come
In further evil ?
Hor. It must be shortly known to him from Eng-
land,
What is the issue of the business there.
Ham. It will be short : the interim is mine ;
And a man's life no more than to say, one.
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his : I'll count 13 his favours :
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.
Hor. Peace: who comes here?
Enter Osric14.
Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to
Denmark.
Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. — Dost know this
water-fly 13 ?
Hor. No, my good lord.
quite him, 4^c] Vide note upon King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3,
vol. v. p. 5o. This passage and the three following speeches
are not in the quartos.
13 [ I'll count his favours.] Rowe changed this to ' I'll
court his favour ;' but there is no necessity for change. Hamlet
means, ' I'll make account of his favours,' i.e. of his good will;
for this was the general meaning of favours in the poet's time.
14 The quarto of 1603—' Enter a braggart Gentleman.'
15 In Troilus and Cressida, Thersites says, ' How the poor
world is pestered with such water-flies ; diminutives of nature.'
The gnats and such like ephemeral insects are not inapt em-
blems of such busy tritlers as Osrick.
G G 2
334 HAMLET, ACT V.
Ham. Thy state is the more gracious ; for 'tis a
vice to know him : He hath much land, and fertile ;
let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall
stand at the king's mess : Tis a chough ; but, as I
say, spacious in the possession of dirt.
Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure,
I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
spirit: Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the
head.
Osr. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot.
Ham. ^Nof believe me, sir, 'tis very cold : the wind
is northerly.
Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
Ham. But yet, methinks, it is very sultry and
hot; or my complexion
Osr, Exceedingly, my lord ; it is very sultry 16, —
as 'twere, — I cannot tell how — My lord, his ma-
jesty bade me signify to you, that he has laid. a great
wager on your head : Sir, this is the matter, —
Ham. I beseech you, remember
[Hamlet moves him to put on his Hat.
Osr. Nay, good my lord; for my ease, in good
faith17. Sir, here is newly come to court, Laertes :
believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most ex-
cellent differences 18, of very soft society, and great
showing: Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is
the card 19 or calendar of gentry, for you shall find
16 [Exceedingly, my lord; 'tis very sultry.]
' igniculurn bruinae si tempore poscas
Accipit endromidem ; si dexeris sestuo, sudat.'
Juvenal.
17 The folio omits this and the following fourteen speeches;
and in their place substitutes, ' Sir, you are not ignorant oi
what excellence Laertes is at his weapon.'
18 i.e. distinguishing excellencies.
19 ' The card or calendar of gentry.' The general preceptoi
of elegance ; the card (chart) by which a gentleman is to direc!
his course ; the calendar by which he is to order his time.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 335
in him the continent20 of what part a gentleman
would see.
Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in
you; — though, I know, to divide him inventorially,
would dizzy the arithmetick of memory ; and yet
but raw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But
in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul
of great article ; and his infusion of such dearth 21
and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his
semblable is his mirrour; and, who else would trace
him, his umbrage, nothing more 22.
Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do wre wrap
the gentleman in our more rawer breath?
Osr. Sir?
Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another
tongue! You will do't, sir, really23.
Ham. What imports the nomination of this gen-
tleman ?
20 ' You shall find in him the continent of what part a gentle-
man would see.' You shall find him containing and comprising
every quality which a gentleman would desire to contemplate for
imitation. Perhaps we should read, ' You shall find him the
continent.'
21 Dearth, according to Tooke, is ' the third person singular
of the verb to dere ; it means some cause which dereth, i. e.
maketh dear ; or hurteth, or doth mischief.' That dearth was,
therefore, used for scarcity, as well as dearness, appears from the
following passage in a MS. petition to the council, by the mer-
chants of London, ti Edw. VI. : speaking of the causes of the
dearness of cloth they say, ' This detriment cometh through the
dearth of wool, the procurers whereof being a few in number for
the augmentation of the same.' — Comvay Papers. See vol. i.
p. 382, note 5.
22 This speech is a ridicule of the Euphuism, or court jargon
of that time.
23 [Is it not possible to understand in another tongue ? You
will do't, sir, really.] This interrogatory remark is very obscure.
The sense may be, ' Is it not possible for this fantastic fellow
to understand in plainer language? You will, however, imitate
his jargon admirably, really, sir.' It seems very probable that
another tongue' is an error of the press for ' mother tongue.'
336 HAMLET, ACT V.
Osr. Of Laertes?
Hot. His purse is empty already ; all his golden
words are spent.
Ham. Of him, sir.
Osr. I know, you are not ignorant
Ham. I would, you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you
did, it wpuld not much approve me 24. — Well, sir.
Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence
Laertes is
Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should com-
pare with him in excellence ; but, to know a man
well, were to know himself25.
Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the
imputation laid on him by them, in his meed 26 he's
unfellowed.
Ham. What's his weapon ?
Osr. Rapier and dagger.
Ham. That's two of his weapons : but, well.
Osr. The king, sir, hath wagered with him sis
Barbary horses : against the which he has impawn-
ed 27, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards
with their assigns, as girdle, hangers28, and so
24 [If you did, if would not tend much toward proving me o
confirming me. ] — What Hamlet would have added we know not
but surely Shakspeare's use of the word approve, upon all occa
sions, is against Johnson's explanation of it — ' to recommend t
approbation.' There is no consistency in the commentators
they rarely look at the prevalent sense of a word in the poel
but explain it many ways, to suit their own views of the meat
ing of a passage.
25 [I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him
&c] I dare not pretend to know him, lest I should pretend t
an equality : no man can completely know another, but by kuov
ing himself, which is the utmost extent of human wisdom.
26 Meed is merit. Vide King Henry VI, Part III. Act ii. Sc. 1
27 ■ Impawned? The folio reads imponed. Pignare, in Italiai
signifies both to impawn and to lay a wager. The stakes are, in
deed, a gage or pledge.
28 Hangers, that part of the belt by which the sword was sus
pended.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 337
Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to
fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate
carriages, and of very liberal conceit.
Ham. What call you the carriages ?
Hor. I knew, you must be edified by the mar-
gent29 ere you had done.
Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
Ham. The phrase would be more german30 to the
matter, if we could carry a cannon by our sides ; I
would, it might be hangers till then. But, on : Six
Barbary horses against six French swords, their
assigns, and three liberal conceited carriages ; that's
the French bet against the Danish: Why is this
impawned, as you call it ?
Osr. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen
passes between yourself and him, he shall not exr
ceed you three hits31; he hath laid on twelve for
nine ; and it would come to immediate trial, if your
lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
Ham. How, if I answer, no?
Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your per-
son in trial.
Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall: If it
please his majesty, it is the breathing time of day
with me: let the foils be brought, the gentleman
willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win
for him, if I can ; if not, I will gain nothing but my
shame, and the odd hits.
29 'The margent.' The gloss or commentary in old hooks
was usually on the margin of the leaf.
30 i. e. more a kin. ' Those that are german to him, though
fifty times removed, shall come under the hangman.' — Winter's
Tale.
31 The conditions of the wager are thus given in the quarto of
1603 :—
' Marry, sir, that young Leartes in twelve venies
At rapier and dagger, do not get three odds of you.'
338 HAMLET, ACT V.
Osr. Shall I deliver you so?
Ham. To this effect, sir ; after what flourish your
nature will.
Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship.
[Exit.
Ham. Yours, yours. — He does well to commend
it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.
Hor. This lapwing32 runs away with the shell on
his head.
Ham. He did comply33 with his dug, before he
sucked it. Thus has he (and many more of the
same bevy34, that, I know, the drossy age dotee
on), only got the tune of the time, and outward
habit of encounter35; a kind of yesty collection
which carries them through and through the mosi
fanned and winnowed opinions 36 ; and do but blow
them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
33 [This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
Horatio means to call Osrick a raw, unfledged, foolish fellow
It was a common comparison for a forward fool. Thus in Meres';
Wits Treasury, 1598 : — ' As the lapwing runneth away with tht
shell on her head, as soon as she is hatched,' &c.
' Forward lapwing,
He flies with the shell an his head.'
Viitoria Corombona.
33 I He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.' Sc
note 47, on Act ii. Sc. 2, p. 224.
34 The folio reads, ' mine more of the same bevy.' Mine i
evidently a misprint, and more likely for manie (i. e. many) thai
mine. The quarto of 1604 reads, ' many more of the same breed.'
35 ' Outward habit of encounter ' is exterior politeness of ad
dress.
36 [A kind of yesty collection, which carries them througl
and through the most fanned and winnowed opinions, &c] Th
folio reads, fond and winnowed. The corruption of the quarto
t prophane and tremwioed,' is not worth attention ; and I hav
no doubt that fond in the folio should be fanned, formerly spel
fan'd, and sometimes even without the apostrophe. Fanned an<
winnowed are almost always coupled by old writers, for reason
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 339
Enter a Lord 37.
Lord. My lord, his majesty commended him to
you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that
you attend him in the hall : He sends to know, if
your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you
will take longer time.
Ham. I am constant to my purposes, they follow
the king's pleasure : if his fitness speaks, mine is
ready ; now, or whensoever, provided I be so able
as now.
Lord. The king, and queen, and all are coming
down.
Ham. In happy time.
Lord. The queen desires you, to use some gentle
sntertainment to Laertes, before you fall to play.
Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord.
Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.
Ham. I do not think so; since he went into
France, I have been in continual practice ; I shall
win at the odds. But thou would'st not think, how
11 all's here about my heart : but it is no matter.
Hor. Nay, good my lord,
Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
^ain-giving38, as would, perhaps, trouble a woman.
hat may be seen under those words in Baret's Alvearie. So
ihakspeare himself in Troilus and Cressida: —
' Distinction with a broad and powerful fan,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away.'
Tie meaning is, ' These men have got the cant of the day, a
uperficial readiness of slight and cursory conversation, a kind
f frothy collection of fashionable prattle, which yet carries
hem through with the most light and inconsequential judgments ;
utif brought to the trial by the slightest breath of rational con-
ersation, the bubbles burst ; or, in other words, display their
nrptiness.'
37 All that passes between Hamlet and this Lord is omitted
i the folio.
38 i. e. misgiving, a giving against, or an internal feeling and
rognostic of evil.
340 HAMLET, ACT V.
Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I
will forestal their repair hither, and say, you are
not fit.
Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there is a
special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If il
be now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, il
will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the
readiness is all: Since no man, of aught he leaves
— knows ; — what is't to leave betimes 3Q. Let be.
Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Lords, Osric, am
Attendants, with Foils, fyc.
King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hanc
from me.
[The King puts the hand of Laertes into tha
of Hamlet.
Ham. Give me your pardon, sir: I have don
you wrong ;
But pardon it, as you are a gentleman.
This presence40 knows, and you must needs hav
heard,
How I am punish'd with a sore distraction.
39 [' Since no man, of aught he leaves, — knows ; — What is
to leave betimes?'] This is the reading of the folio ; the quar
reads, ' Since no man has ought of what he leaves. What is
to leave betimes.' Has is evidently here a blunder for knou
Johnson thus interprets the passage : — ' Since no man knows oug
of the state which he leaves, since he cannot judge what oth
years may produce, why should we be afraid of leaving life h
times ?' Warburton's explanation is very ingenious, but perhaj
strains the poet's meaning farther than he intended. ' It is tri
that by death we lose all the goods of life ; yet seeing this lo
is no otherwise an evil than as we are sensible of it ; and sin
death removes all sense of it, what matters it how soon we lo
them.' This argument against the fear of death has been dilat-
and placed in a very striking light by the late Mr. Green.-
See Diary of a Lover of Literature, Ipswich, 1810, 4to. p. 230.
Shakspeare himself has elsewhere said, ' the sense of death
most in apprehension.'
40 i. e. the king and queen.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 341
What I have done,
That might your nature, honour, and exception,
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
IVas't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never, Hamlet :
[f Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
\nd, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
>Vho does it then? His madness: If't be so,
Camlet is of the faction that is wrong'd ;
lis madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
Sir, in his audience41,
^et my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
'ree me so far in your most generous thoughts,
Tiat I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
\nd hurt my brother.
Laer. I am satisfied in nature,
Yhose motive, in this case, should stir me most
\> my revenge : but in my terms of honour,
stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
'ill by some elder masters, of known honour,
have a voice and precedent of peace,
o keep my name ungor'd42 : But till that time,
do receive your offer'd love like love,
k.nd will not wrong it.
Ham. I embrace it freely ;
ind will this brother's wager frankly play. —
live us the foils; come on.
Laer. Come, one for me.
Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance
"our skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
tick fiery off indeed.
41 This line is not in the quarto.
42 i.e. unwounded. This is a piece of satire on fantastical
>nour. Though nature is satisfied, yet he will ask advice of
der men of the sword, whether artificial honour ought to be
•ntented with Hamlet's apology.
VOL. X. H H
342 HAMLET, ACT V.
Laer. You mock me, sir.
Ham. No, by this hand.
King. Give them the foils, young Osric. — Cousir
Hamlet,
You know the wager ?
Ham. Very well, my lord;
Your grace hath laid the odds 43 o' the weaker side
King. I do not fear it : I have seen you both :—
But since he's better'd, we have therefore odds.
Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another.
Ham. This likes me well : These foils have all ;
length ? [ They prepare to play
Osr. Ay, my good lord.
King. Set me the stoups44 of wine upon tha
table : —
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire :
The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ;
And in the cup an union45 shall he throw,
43 The king had wagered six Barbary horses to a few rapier
poniards, &c; that is, about twenty to one. These are the od
here meant. The odds the King means in the next speech we
twelve to nine in favour of Hamlet, by Laertes giving him thre<
44 Stoup is a common word in Scotland at this day, and d
notes a pewter vessel resembling our wine measures; but of)
determinate quantity; for there are gallon-stoups, pint-stou}
mutchkin-stoups, &c. The vessel in which water is fetched
kept is also called a water-stoup. A stoup of wine is therefo
equivalent to a pitcher of wine.
45 An union is a precious pearl, remarkable for its size. ' A'
hereupon it is that our dainties and delicates here at Rome, &
call them unions, as a man would say singular, and by themselv
alone.' To swallow a pearl in a draught seems to have be
common to royal and mercantile prodigality. Thus in the seco
part of ' If You Know Not Me You Know Nobody : —
' Here sixteen thousand pound at one clap goes
Instead of sugar. Gresham drinks this pearl
Unto the queen his mistress.'
According to Rondeletus pearls were supposed to have an ex!
larating quality. ' Uniones qua1 a conchis, &c. valde cordi
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 343
Richer than that which four successive kings
In Denmark's crown have worn ; Give me the cups ;
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
Now the king drinks to Hamlet. — Come, begin; — •
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
Ham. Come on, sir.
Laer. Come, my lord. [ They play.
Ham. One.
Laer. No.
Ham. Judgment.
Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.
Laer. Well, — again.
King. Stay, give me drink: Hamlet, this pearl
is thine;
Here's to thy health. — Give him the cup.
[ Trumpets sound; and Cannons shot off within.
Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it by awhile.
Come. — Another hit; What say you? [They play.
Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess.
King. Our son shall win.
Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. —
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows :
The queen carouses46 to thy fortune, Hamlet.
Ham. Good madam,
King. Gertrude, do not drink.
Queen. I will, my lord; — I pray you, pardon me.
King. It is the poison'd cup ; it is too late.
[Aside.
Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam ; by and by.
Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face.
sunt.' Under pretence of throwing a pearl into the cup, the
King may be supposed to drop some poisonous drug into the
wine. Hamlet subsequently asks him tauntingly, ' Is the union
here ?'
46 i.e. the queen drinks to thy good success.
344 HAMLET, AC V.
Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.
King. I do not think it.
Laer. And yet it is almost against my conscience
[Aside
Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes : You do but
dally;
1 pray you, pass with your best violence;
I am afeard, you make a wanton47 of me.
Laer. Say you so? come on. [They play
Osr. Nothing neither way.
Laer. Have at you now.
[Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuf-
fling, they change Rapiers, and Hamlet
icounds Laertes.
King. Part them, they are incens'd
Ham. Nay, come again. [The Queen falls
Osr. Look to the queen there, ho
Hor. They bleed on both sides; — How is it, mj
lord?
Osr. How is't, Laertes ?
Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe
Osric ;
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
If am. How does the queen ?
King. She swoons to see them bleed
Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink, — O my dea
Hamlet !
The drink, the drink ; — I am poison 'd ! [Dies
Ham. O villany ! — Ho ! let the door be lock'd :
Treachery! seek it out. [Laertes/o/&
Laer. It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain
No medicine in the world can do thee good,
In thee there is not half an hour's life;
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
47 i. e. you trifle or play with me as if I were a child.
SC. II. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 345
Unbated48, and envenom'd : the foul practice
Hath turn'd itself on me : lo, here I lie,
Never to rise again: Thy mother's poison'd;
I can no more; the king, the king's to blame.
Ham. The point *
Envenom'd too ! — Then, venom, to thy work49.
[Stabs the King.
Osr. 4r Lords. Treason ! treason !
King. O, yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt.
Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned
Dane,
Drink off this potion : — Is the union here ?
Follow my mother. [King dies.
Laer. He is justly serv'd;
It is a poison temper'd by himself. —
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet :
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee ;
Nor thine on me ! [Dies.
Ham. Heaven make thee free of it ! I follow thee.
I am dead, Horatio : — Wretched queen, adieu ! —
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time (as this fell sergeant50, death,
Is strict in his arrest), O, I could tell you, —
But let it be: — Horatio, I am dead;
48 See note on Act iv. Sc. 7.
• In the quarto of 1603 :—
* The poison'd instrument within my hand ?
Then venom to thy venom; die, damn'd villain:
Come drink, here lies thy union here.' [King dies.
50 A sergeant was a bailiff or sheriff's officer. Shakspeare, in
his 74th Sonnet, has likened death to an arrest:—
1 when that fell arrest,
Without all bail shall carry me away.'
And Joshua Silvester, in his Dubartas : —
1 And death, sergeant of the eternal Judge,
Comes very late/ &c.
H H 2
346 HAMLET, ACT V.
Thou liv'st ; report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied.
Hor. Never believe it ;
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,
Here's yet some liquor left.
Ham. As thou'rt a man, —
Give me the cup; let go ; by heaven, I'll have it. —
0 God ! — Horatio, what a wounded name,
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me?
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story. —
[March afar off, and Shot within.
What warlike noise is this ?
Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from
Poland,
To the ambassadors of England gives
This warlike volley.
Ham. O, I die, Horatio;
The potent poison quite o'ercrows51 my spirit;
1 cannot live to hear the news from England :
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more or less,
Which have solicited52, — The rest is silence. [Dies.
Hor. Now cracks a noble heart; — Good night,
sweet prince ;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest !
Why does the drum come hither? [March within.
51 To overcrow is to overcome, to subdue. ' These noblemen
laboured with tooth and naile to overcrow, and consequently to
overthrow one another.' — Holimhed's History of Ireland.
62 * The occurrents which have solicited' — the occurrences or
incidents which have incited.' The sentence is left unfinished.
SC. 11. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 347
Enter Fortinbras, the English Ambassadors,
and Others.
Fort. Where is this sight?
Hor. What is it, you would see ?
If aught of woe, or wonder, cease your search.
Fort. This quarry cries on havock 53 ! — O proud
death !
What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
That thou so many princes, at a shot,
So bloodily hast struck ?
1 Amb. The sight is dismal ;
And our affairs from England come too late :
The ears are senseless, that should give us hearing,
To tell him, his commandment is fulfill'd,
That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead :
Where should we have our thanks ?
Hor. Not from his mouth,
Had it the ability of life to thank you ;
He never gave commandment for their death.
But since, so jump54 upon this bloody question,
You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
Are here arriv'd ; give order, that these bodies
High on a stage be placed to the view ;
^Lnd let me speak, to the yet unknowing world,
How these things came about : So shall you hear
3f carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts55;
53 ' This quarry cries on havock!' To cry on was to exclaim
'gainst. I suppose when unfair sportsmen destroyed more game
han was reasonable, the censure was to call it havock.
Johnson.
Quarry was the term used for a heap of slaughtered game,
iee Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. 3.
54 It has been already observed that jump and just, or exactly,
re synonymous. Vide note on Act i. Sc. 1, p. 160.
55 ' Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts.' Of sanguinary and
nuatural acts, to which the perpetrator was instigated by con-
348 HAMLET, ACT V.
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
Of deaths put on56 by cunning, and forc'd cause;
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
Fall'n on the inventors' heads : all this can I
Truly deliver.
Fort. Let us haste to hear it.
And call the noblest to the audience.
For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune ;
I have some rights of memory57 in this kingdom,
Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.
Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more :
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Even while men's minds are wild ; lest more mis-
chance,
On plots and errors, happen.
Fort. Let four captains
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have prov'd most royally : and, for his passage
The soldier's musick, and the rites of war,
Speak loudly for him. —
Take up the bodies : — Such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [A dead march
[Exeunt, bearing off the dead Bodies; afte:
which, a Peal of Ordnance is shot off.
cupiscence or ' carnal stings.' The allusion is to the murder c
old Hamlet by his brother, previous to his incestuous union wit
Gertrude.
56 i. e. instigated, produced. Instead of ' forced cause,' tb'
quartos read 'for no cause.'
i7 i. e. some rights which are remembered in this kingdom.
PRINCE OF DENMARK. 349
The following scene in the first quarto, 1603, differs so mate-
rially from the revised play, that it has been thought it would
not be unacceptable to the reader: —
Enter Horatio and the Queen.
Hor. Madam, your son is safe arriv'd in Deninarke,
This letter I even now receiv'd of him,
Whereas he writes how he escap'd the danger,
And subtle treason that the king had plotted,
Being crossed by the contention of the winds,
He found the packet sent to the king of England,
Wherein he saw himself betray'd to death,
As at his next conversion with your grace
He will relate the circumstance at full.
Queen. Then I perceive there's treason in his looks,
That seem'd to sugar o'er his villanies :
But I will sooth and please him for a time,
For murderous minds are always jealous ; '
But know not you, Horatio, where he is ?
Hor. Yes, madam, and he hath appointed me
To meet him on the east side of the city
To-morrow morning.
Queen. O fail not, good Horatio, and withal commend me
A mother's care to him, bid him a while
Be wary of his presence, lest that he
Fail in that he goes about.
Hor. Madam, never make doubt of that :
I think by this the news be come to court
He is arriv'd : observe the king, and you shall
Quickly find, Hamlet being here,
Things fell not to his mind.
Queen. But what became of Gilderstone and Rossencraft?
Hor. He being set ashore, they went for England,
And in the packet there writ down that doom
To be perform'd on them 'pointed for him :
And by great chance he had his father's seal,
So all was done without discovery.
Queen. Thanks be to heaven for blessing of the prince.
Horatio, once again I take my leave,
With thousand mother's blessings to my son.
Hor. Madam, adieu !
350 HAMLET.
If the dramas of Shakspeare were to be characterised, each by
the particular excellence which distinguishes it from the rest,
we must allow to the tragedy of Hamlet the praise of variety.
The incidents are so numerous, that the argument of the play
would make a long tale. The scenes are interchangeably diver-
sified with merriment and solemnity : with merriment that in-
cludes judicious and instructive observations; and solemnity
not strained by poetical violence above the natural sentiments
of man. New characters appear from time to time in continual
succession, exhibiting various forms of life and particular modes
of conversation. The pretended madness of Hamlet causes much
mirth, the mournful distraction of Ophelia fills the heart with
tenderness, and every personage produces the effect intended,
from the apparition that in the first Act chills the blood with
horror, to the fop in the last, that exposes affectation to jus!
contempt.
The conduct is perhaps not wholly secure against objections
The action is indeed for the most part in continual progression
but there are some scenes which neither forward nor retard it
Of the feigned madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate
cause ; for he does nothing which he might not have done wit!
the reputation of sanity. He plays the madman most when he
treats Ophelia with so much rudeness, which seems to be useless
and wanton cruelty.
Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an instrumen'
than an agent. After he has, by the stratagem of the play, con
victed the King, he makes no attempt to punish him ; and hi;
death is at last effected by an incident which Hamlet had no par
in producing.
The catastrophe is not very happily produced ; the exchang<
of weapons is rather an expedient of necessity, than a stroke o
art. A scheme might easily be formed to kill Hamlet with th»
dagger, and Laertes with the bowl.
The poet is accused of having shown little regard to poetica
justice, and may be charged with equal neglect of poetical pro
bability. The apparition left the regions of the dead to litth
purpose ; the revenge which he demands is not obtained, but bj
the death of him that was required to take it ; and the gratifi
cation which would arise from the destruction of an usurpe
and a murderer, is abated by the untimely death of Ophelia, th<
young, the beautiful, the harmless, and the pious.
Johnson.
OTHELLO.
Othello. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee.
Act v. Sc. 2.
FROM THE CHISWICK PRESS.
©t&eUo, ttft JWoot of Wienite.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
1 he story is taken from the collection of Novels, by Gio Giraldi
Cinthio, entitled Hecatoinuiithi, being the seventh novel of the
third decad. No English translation of so early a date as the
age of Shakspeare has hitherto been discovered : but the work
was translated into French by Gabriel Chappuys, Paris, 1584.
The version is not a faithful one ; and Dr. Farmer suspects that
through this medium the novel came into English.
The name of Othello may have been suggested by some tale
which has escaped our researches, as it occurs in Reynolds's
God's Revenge against Adultery, standing in one of his argu-
ments as follows : — ' She marries Othello, an old German sol-
dier.' This history (the eighth) is professed to be an Italian
one ; and here also the name of Iago occurs. It is likewise
found in The History of the famous Euordanus, Prince of Den-
mark ; with the strange Adventures of Iago, Prince of Saxonie,
4to, 1605. It may indeed be urged, that these names were
adopted from the tragedy before us : but every reader who is
conversant with the peculiar style and method in which the
work of honest John Reynolds is composed, will acquit him of
the slightest familiarity with the scenes of Shakspeare.
Steevens.
The time of this play may be ascertained from the following
circumstances : — Selymus the Second formed his design against
Cyprus in 1569, and took it in 1571. This was the only attempt
the Turks ever made upon that island after it came into the
hands of the Venetians (which was in 1473), wherefore the time
must fall in with some part of that interval. We learn from
the play, that there was a junction of the Turkish fleet at
Rhodes, in order for the invasion of Cyprus ; that it first came
sailing towards Cyprus ; then went to Rhodes, there met another
squadron, and then resumed its way to Cyprus. These are real
historical facts, which happened when Mustapha, Selymus's ge-
neral attacked Cyprus, in May, 1570 ; which is therefore the
true period of this performance. — See Knolles's History of the
Turks, p. 838, 846, 867.— Reed.
The first edition of this play, of which we have any certain
352 OTHELLO.
knowledge, was printed by N. O. for Thomas Walkly, to whom
it was entered on the Stationers' Books, October G, 1621. The
most material variations of this copy from the first folio art
pointed out in the notes. The minute differences are so nume
rous, that to have specified them would only have fatigued tht
reader. Walkly's Preface will follow these Preliminary Re
marks.
Malone first placed the date of the composition of this play ii
1611, upon the ground of the allusion, supposed by Warburton
to the creation of the order of baronets. [See Act iii. Sc. 4
note 4.] On the same ground Mr. Chalmers attributed it U
1614 ; and Dr. Drake assigned the middle period of 1612. Bu
this allusion being controverted, Malone subsequently affixed t(
it the date of-1604, because, as he asserts, ' we know it was actec
in that year.' He has not stated the evidence for this decisive
fact; and Mr. Boswell was unable to discover it among hi;
papers ; but gives full credit to it, on the ground that ' Mr. Ma
lone never expressed himself at random.' The allusion to Pliny
translated by Philemon Holland, in 1601, in the simile of th<
Pontick Sea ; and the supposed imitation of a passage in Corn
wallis's Essays, of the same date, referred to in the note citec
above, seem to have influenced Mr. Malone in settling the dat<
of this play. What is more certain is, that it was played befort
King James at court, in 1613; which circumstance is gatherec
from the MSS. of Vertue the Engraver.
' If (says Schlegel) Romeo and Juliet shines with the colour.'
of the dawn of morning, but a dawn whose purple clouds already
announce the thunder ol' a sultry day, Othello is, on the othe
hand, a strongly shaded picture; we might call it a tragica
Rembrandt.'
Should these parallels between pictorial representation am
dramatic poetry be admitted, — for I have my doubts of thei
propriety, — this is a far more judicious ascription than that o
Steevens, who, in a concluding note to this play, would compart
it to a picture from the school of Raphael. Poetry is certainty
the pabulum of art; and this drama, as every other of ou:
immortal bard, offers a series of pictures to the imagination o
such varied hues, that artists of every school might from henc<
be furnished with subjects. What Schlegel means to say ap
pears to be, that it abounds in strongly contrasted scenes, bu
that gloom predominates.
Much has been written on the subject of this drama; an*
there has been some difference of opinion in regard to the rani
in which it deserves to be placed. For my own part I shouh
not hesitate to place it in the first. Perhaps this prefereno
may arise from the circumstance of the domestic nature of it
action, which lavs a stronger hold upon our sympathy ; fo
PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 353
verpowering as is the pathos of Lear, or the interest excited
y Macbeth, it comes less near to the business of life.
In strong contrast of character, in delineation of the workings
f passion in the human breast, in manifestations of profound
nowledge of the inmost recesses of the heart, this drama ex-
perts all that has ever issued from mortal pen. It is indeed
ue that ' no eloquence is capable of painting the overwhelming
itastrophe in Othello, — the pressure of feelings which measure
at in a moment the abysses of eternity.'
WALKLY'S PREFACE TO OTHELLO,
ed. 1C22, 4to.
THE STATIONER TO THE READER.
'o set forth a booke without an Epistle, were like
) the old English proverbe, ' A blew coat ivithout a
adge; and the author being dead, I thought good
) take that piece of worke upon me : To commend
, I will not ; for that which is good, I hope every
lan will commend without intreaty : and 1 am the
older, because the Author's name is sufficient to
ent his worke. Thus leaving every one to the
berty of judgment, I have ventured to print this
lay, and leave it the generall censure. Yours,
Thomas Walkly.
vol. x, II
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Duke of Venice.
Brabantio, a Senator.
Two other Senators.
Gratiano, Brother to Brabantio.
Lodovico, Kinsman to Brabantio.
Othello, the Moor :
Cassio, his Lieutenant ;
Iago, his Ancient.
Roderigo, a Venetian Gentleman.
Montano, Othello's Predecessor in the Government of
Cyprus.
Clown, Servant to Othello.
Herald.
Desdemona, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othel
Emilia, Wife to Iago.
Bianca, a Courtesan, Mistress to Cassio.
Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors,
Attendants, fyc.
SCENE, for the first Act, in Venice ; during the rest of
the Play, at a Seaport in Cyprus.
OTHELLO,
THE MOOR, OF VENICE.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Venice. A Street.
Enter Roderigo and Iago.
Roderigo.
ush, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
hat thou, Iago, — who hast had my purse,
s if the strings were thine, — should'st know of this.
Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me : —
ever I did dream of such a matter,
bhor me.
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy
hate.
Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones
of the city,
i personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
ft capp'd l to him ; — and, by the faith of man,
know my price, I am worth no worse a place :
ut he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
vades them, with a bombast circumstance 2,
1 To cap is to salute by taking off the cap : it is still an
} ademick phrase. The folio reads, « Off-capp'd.'
2 Circumstance signifies circumlocution.
1 And therefore without circumstance, to the point,
Instruct me what I am V The Picture, by Massinger.
35G OTHELLO, ACT I
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war ;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators ; for, certes, says he,
/ have already chose my officer.
And what was he ?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician3.
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife4;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick
Wherein the toged consuls6 can propose
3 Iago means to represent Cassio as a man merely conversa
with civil matters, and who knew no more of a squadron th;
the number of men it contained. He afterwards calls him ' tl
counter-castor'
4 The folio reads, danibd. This passage has given rise
much discussion. Mr. Tyrwhitt thought that we should re;
' almost damn'd in a fair life;1 alluding to the judgment i
nounced in the Gospel against those ' of whom all men spe
well.' I should be contented to adopt his emendation, but wi
a dillerent interpretation: — ' A fellow almost damn'd (i.e. 1<
from luxurious habits) in the serene or equable tenour of 1
life.' The passage as it stands at present has been said
Steevens to mean, according to Iago's licentious manner of €
pressing himself, no more than a man ' very near being marrie
This seems to have been the case in respect to Cassio. Act
Sc. 1, Iago, speaking to him of Bianca, says, ' Why, the c
goes that you shall marry her.' Cassio acknowledges that su
a report had been raised, and adds — ' This is the monkey's o
giving out : she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her lc
and self flattery, not out of my promise.' Iago then, havi
heard this report before, very naturally alludes to it in his p
sent conversation with Roderigo. — Mr. Boswell suspects tl
there may be some corruption in the text.
5 i. e. theory. See All's Well that Ends Well, Act iv. Sc.
p. 305.
6 ' The rulers of the state, or civil governors. The word
used in the same sense in Tamburlaine : —
' Both we will reign the consuls of the earth.'
By toged is meant peaceable, in opposition to warlike qualifi
lions, of which he had been speaking. The word may be forn
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 357
Ys masterly as he : mere prattle, without practice,
j all his soldiership. But, he, sir, had the election :
\.nd I, — of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
\t Rhodes, at Cyprus ; and on other grounds
Christian and heathen, — mustbebe-lee'd and calm'd
3y debitor and creditor, this counter-caster7;
le, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
Vnd I (God bless the mark !) his Moorship's ancient.
Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his
hangman.
Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of
service ;
Preferment goes by letter 8, and affection,
>Tot by the old gradation, where each second
itood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
'Vhether I in any just term am affin'd9
?o love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
Iago. O, sir, content you;
follow him to serve my turn upon him:
Ye cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
/[any a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
'hat, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
'Years out his time, much like his master's ass,
i allusion to the adage, • Cedant arma togas.' The folio reads,
tongued consuls,' which agrees hetter with the words which
illow : — ' mere prattle, without practice.'
7 It was anciently the practice to reckon up suras with coun-
ts. To this the poet alludes in Cymbeline, Act v. : — • It sums
p thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor,
ut it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge. Your
eck, sir, is pen, book, and counters?
8 i. e. by recommendation.
9 ' Do I stand within any such terms of propinquity to the
Ioor, as that I am bound to love him.' The first quarto has
ssujn'd.
I I 2
338 OTHELLO, ACT I.
For nought but provender; and, when he's old.
cashier'd ;
Whip rae such honest knaves 10 : Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd
their coats,
Do themselves homage: these fellows have soni(
soul;
And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago :
In following him, I follow but myself:
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end :
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern n, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws12 to peck at: I am not what I am.
Rod. What a full fortune 13 does the thick-lips owt
If he can carry't thus !
Iago. Call up her father,
Bouse him : make after him, poison his delight,
10 Knave is here used for servant, but with a sly mixture <
contempt.
11 Outward show of civility.
12 This is the reading of the folio. The first quarto reac
* doves'
13 Full fortune is complete good fortune : to owe is to posses
So in Antony and Cleopatra : —
' not the imperious show
Of the full-forturi d Caesar.'
And in Cymbeline : —
* Our pleasure his full fortune dolh confine.'
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 3-59
Proclaim him in the streets ; incense her kinsmen,
\nd, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Jlague him with flies : though that his joy be joy,
if et throw such changes of vexation on't,
Vs it may lose some colour.
Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
Iago. Do ; with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
\s when, by14 night and negligence, the fire
s spied in populous cities.
Rod. What ho ! Brabantio ! signior Brabantio, ho !
Iago. Awake ! what ho ! Brabantio ! thieves !
thieves ! thieves !
iOok to your house, your daughter, and your bags !
'hieves ! thieves !
Brabantio, above, at a Window.
Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?
Yhat is the matter there ?
Rod. Signior, is all your family within ?
Iago. Are your doors lock'd?
Bra. Why? wherefore ask you this?
Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame,
put on your gown :
our heart is burst15, you have lost half your soul ;
ven now, very now, an old black ram
5 tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise ;
wake the snorting citizens with the bell,
r else the devil will make a grandsire of you :
rise,. I say.
Bra. What, have you lost your wits?
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my
voice ?
14 ' By night and negligence' means ' in the time of night and
^ligence.' Nothing is more common than this mode of ex-
i assion : we should not hesitate at the expression, ' By night
rl day.'
15 i. e. is broken. See vol. iii. p. 312.
tf(K) OTHELLO, ACT I.
Bra. Not I; What are you?
Rod. My name is — Roderigo.
Bra. The worse welcome
I have charg'd thee, not to haunt about my doors
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
My daughter is not for thee ; and now, in madness
Being full of supper, and distempering l6 draughts
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet.
Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir,
Bra. But thou must needs be sur
My spirit, and my place, have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod. Patience, good sir.
Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this
Venice ;
My house is not a grange 17.
Rod. Most grave Brabanti
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those, tb
will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Becau
we come to do you service, you think we are n
fians: You'll have your daughter covered with
Barbary horse ; you'll have your nephews 18 nei
to you : you'll have coursers for cousins, and ge
nets for germans19.
16 That is * intoxicating draughts.' In Hamlet the king is s
to he ' marvellous distemper'd with wine.' See King Henrv
Actii. Sc.2, p.424.
17 That is, we are in a populous city, mine is not a lone koi
where a robbery might easily be committed. Grange is, stric;
the farm of a monastery; grangia, Lat. from-granum : but, \
vincially, any lone house or solitary farm is called a grange.
in Measure for Measure : — ' At the moated grange resides t
dejected Mariana.'
18 Nephews here mean grandchildren. See King Henry
Part i. p. 41 ; and King Richard III. p. 84.
19 i. e. horses for relations. A gennet is a Spanish or I
bary horse.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 361
Bra. What profane 20 wretch art thou ?
Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, your
aughter and the Moor are now making the beast
rith two backs21.
Bra. Thou art a villain.
Iago. You are — a senator.
Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, Ro-
derigo.
Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I be-
seech you,
If t be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
As partly, I find, it is), that your fair daughter,
It this odd-even22 and dull watch o'the night,
Vansported — with no worse nor better guard,
3ut with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, —
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, —
f this be known to you, and your allowance 23,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs ;
3ut if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, from24 the sense of all civility,
thus would play and trifle with your reverence :
four daughter, — if you have not given her leave, —
20 A profane wretch is an unlucky or a icicked one. See vol. v.
. 384, note 4.
21 Faire la bete a deux dos is a French proverbial expression,
vhich needs no explanation. See the notes to any edition of
iabelais, or Le Roux's Dictionnaire Comique.
22 This odd-even appears to mean the interval between twelve
t night and one in the morning. So in Macbeth : —
' What is the night?
Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.'
23 i. e. your approbation.
24 That is, in opposition to or departing from the sense of all
tvility. So in Twelfth Night :—
• But this is from my commission.'
Vnd in The Mayor of Queenborough, by Middleton, 1661 : —
' But this is /rem my business.'
XC>2 OTHELLO, ACT I.
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagant 23 and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where : Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.
Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho !
Give me a taper ; — call up all my people : —
This accident is not unlike my dream,
Belief of it oppresses me already : —
Light, I say ! light ! [Exit, from aboix
Iago. Farewell ; for I must leave you
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall),
Against the Moor : For, I do know, the state, —
However this may gall him with some check26, —
Cannot with safety cast27 him; for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars
(Which even now stand in act), that, for their souls
Another of his fathom they have not,
To lead their business : in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall sureb
find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search ;
And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Exit
25 Extravagant is here again used in its Latin sense, for wat<
dering. Thus in Hamlet: — ' The extravagant and erring spirit.
Sir Henry Wooton thus uses it : — ' These two accidents, pre
cisely true, and known to few, I have reported as not altogethe
extravagant from my purpose.' Parallel, Sfc. between Buckingham
and Essex. — In is here used for on, a common substitution i
ancient phraseology. Pope and others, not aware of this, alterc
it, and read, ' To an extravagant,' &c.
26 i. e. some rebuke. * That is, dismiss him, reject him.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 303
Enter below, Brabantio, and Servants with
Torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil : gone she is :
k.nd what's to come of my despised time 28,
s nought but bitterness. — Now, Roderigo,
Vhere didst thou see her? — O, unhappy girl! —
Vith the Moor, say'st thou? — Who would be a
father ? —
Tow didst thou know 'twas she? 0,thou deceiv'stme
•ast thought ! — What said she to you ? — Get more
tapers ;
Laise all my kindred. — Are they married think you ?
Rod. Truly, I think, they are.
Bra. O heaven ! — How got she out ! — O treason
of the blood ! —
athers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
y what you see them act, — Is there not charms 29,
y which the property of youth and maidhood
lay be abus'd30? Have you not read, Roderigo,
f some such thing?
Bod. Yes, sir; I have indeed.
Bra. Call up my brother. — O, that you had had
her!—
)me one way, some another. — Do you know
^ here we may apprehend her and the Moor ?
28 Despised time is time of no value : time in which
1 There's nothing serious in mortality ;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere dregs
Are left this vault to brag of.'
in Romeo and Juliet : —
*. expire the term
Of a despised life clos'd in my breast.'
' Is there not charms,' &c. mean Is there not such a thing
charms? The second folio reads, ' Are there not,' &c.
30 i. e. may be illuded or deceived.
' * wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleeper.' Macbeth.
364 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Rod. I think, I can discover him ; if you pleas
To *;et good guard, and go along with me.
Bra. 'Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call
I may command at most ; — Get weapons, ho !
And raise some special officers of night. —
On, good Roderigo; — I'll deserve your pains.
[Exeun
SCENE II. TJie'same. Another Street.
Enter Othello, I ago, and Attendants.
Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain me
Yet do I hold it very stuff1 o'the conscience,
To do no contriv'd murder ; I lack iniquity
Sometimes, to do me service : Nine or ten time
I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the rit
Oth. Tis better as it is.
Iago. Nay, but he prated2
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honour,
That, with the little godliness I have,
I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married ? for, be sure of this, —
That the magnifico 3 is much beloved ;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential4
As double as the duke's ; he will divorce you ;
1 This expression to common readers appears harsh. S
of the conscience is substance or essence of the conscience. Sli
speare uses the word in the same sense, and in a manner I
more harsh in Macbeth : —
• Cleanse the stuff' d bosom of that perilous stuff.'
2 ' Of whom is this said ? — Of Roderigo.' — Steevens.
3 The chief men of Venice are by a peculiar name ca
magnifici, i. e. magnificoes. See Ben Jonson's Volpone.
4 i. e. as mighty, as powerful : as double means as strong
forcible, as double in effect as that of the doge, whose voic<
course carried great sway with it, and who is said to have
extraordinary privileges, influencing every court and counc
the state.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 365
)r put upon you what restraint and grievance
nhe law (with all his might, to enforce it on),
rVill give him cable.
Oth. Let him do his spite :
tfy services, which I have done the signiory,
♦hall out-tongue his complaints. JTis yet to know,
Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
shall promulgate), I fetch my life and being
7rom men of royal siege5; and my demerits6
>Iay speak, unbonneted7, to as proud a fortune
Vs this that I have reach'd: For know, Iago,
Sut that I love the gentle Desdemona,
would not my unhoused 8 free condition
*ut into circumscription and confine
•or the sea's worth 9. But, look ! what lights come
yonder ?
5 ' Men who have sat upon royal thrones.' So in Grafton's
hronicle, p. 443 : — ' Incontinent, after that he was placed in
le royal siege,' &c.
6 Demerits has the same meaning in Shakspeare as merits.
Tereo and demereo had the same meaning in the Roman lan-
uage. ' Demerit (says Bullokar), a desert; also (on the con-
ary, and as it is most commonly used at this day) ill-deserving.''
ee Coriolanus, p. 131.
7 Mr. Fuseli (and who was better acquainted with the sense
id spirit of Shakspeare?) explains this passage as follows : —
I am his equal or superior in rank ; and were it not so, such
e my merits, that unbonneted, without the addition of patrician
• senatorial dignity, they may speak to as proud a fortune,' &c.
t Venice the bonnet, as well as the toge, is a badge of aristo-
atic honours to this day.
8 i. e.unsettled, free from domestic cares.
9 Pliny, the naturalist, has a chapter on the riches of the sea.
lie expression seems to have been proverbial. Thus in Dave-
tnt's Cruel Brother, 1630 :—
' he would not lose that privilege
For the sea's icorth.'
) in King Henry V. Act i. : —
' As rich with praise,
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea
With sunken wreck and suinless treasuries.'
VOL. X. K K
:*G(i OTHELLO, ACT I.
Enter Cassio, at a Distance, and certain Officer
with Torches.
Iago. These are the raised father, and his friends
You were best go in.
Oth. Not I : I must be found ;
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
Iago. By Janus, I think no.
Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenan
The goodness of the night upon you, friends 10 !
What is the news ?
Cas. The duke does greet you, generai
And he requires your haste, post-haste u appearand
Even on the instant.
Oth. What is the matter, think yoi
Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine
It is a business of some heat : the galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another's heels ;
And many of the consuls12, rais'd, and met,
Are at the duke's already : You have been hot
call'd for;
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The senate hath sent about three several quests 13
To search you out.
Oth. Tis well I am found by you
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you. [Ex
10 So in Measure for Measure : —
* The best and wholesomest spirits of the night
Envelop you, good provost !'
11 These words were ordinarily written on the covers of lett
or packets requiring the most prompt and' speedy conveyan
Often reduplicated thus : — Haste, haste, haste, post-haste!'
12 See note 6, on Scene 1, p. 256.
13 Quests are here put for messengers ; properly it signii
searchers. Vide Cotgrave, in questeur.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 367
Cas. Ancient, what makes he here ?
Iago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land
carrack 14 ;
[f it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
Cas. I do not understand.
Iago. He's married.
Cas. To who15?
Re-enter Othello.
Iago. Marry, to — Come, captain, will you go ?
Oth. Have with you.
Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, IIoderigo, and Officers of
Nighty with Torches and Weapons.
Iago. It is Brabantio : — general, be advis'd 1G;
ie comes to bad intent.
Oth. Hola! stand there!
Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.
Bra. Down with him, thief!
[ They draw on both sides.
Iago. You, Roderigo ! come, sir, I am for you.
Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew
will rust them. —
*ood signior, you shall more command with years,
'han with your weapons.
Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd
my daughter ?
14 A carrack, or carrick, was a ship of great burthen, a Spanish
aleon; so named from carico, a lading, or freight.
15 In the third scene of the third act Iago says : —
' Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love ?
Oth. From first to last.'
assio's seeming ignorance might therefore only be affected in
rder to keep his friend's secret till it became publicly known.
16 i. e. be cautious, be discreet.
3(J8 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her :
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magick were not bound,
Whether a maid — so tender, fair, and happy ;
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled17 darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou : to fear, not to delight 18.
[Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense19,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms ;
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals
That waken motion 20 : — I'll have it disputed on ;
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
17 Sir W. Davenant uses the same expression in his Ju:
Italian, 1630:—
* The curVd and silken nohles of the town.'
Again: —
• Such as the curled youth of Italy.'
It was the fashion of the poet's time for lusty gallants to we
* a curled bush of frizzled hair.' See Hall's Satires, ed. 182
book iii. sat. 5. Shakspeare has in other places alluded to t]
fashion of curling the hair among persons of rank and fashio
Speaking of Tarquin, in The Rape of Lucrece, he says; —
1 Let him have time to tear his curled hair.'
And Edgar, in Lear, when he was ' proud in heart and mine
curled his hair. Turnus, in the twelfth iEneid, speaking
./Eneas, says : —
* fcedare in pulvere crines
Vibratos calido ferre.'
18 * Of such a thing as thou : a thing to fear (i. e. terrify), D
to delight.' So in the next scene : —
• To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on.'
19 The lines in crotchets are not in the first edition, 4to. 162
20 The old copy reads, ' That weaken motion.' The emenc
tion is Hanmer's. Motion is elsewhere used by our poet pi
cisely in the sense required here. So in Measure for Measur
1 one who never feels
The wanton stings and motions of the sense.'
And in a subsequent scene of this play :— ' But we have reas
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 3G9
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,]
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant :■ —
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.
Oth. Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining, and the rest :
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter. — Where will you that I go
To answer this your charge ?
Bra. To prison : till fit time
Of law, and course of direct session,
Call thee to answer.
Oth. What if I do obey?
;How may the duke be therewith satisfied;
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state,
To bring me to him ?
Off. 'Tis true, most worthy signior,
The duke's in council ; and your noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.
Bra. How ! the duke in council !
In this time of the night! — Bring him away:
Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own :
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves, and pagans21, shall our statesmen be.
[Exeunt.
to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts.'
So in A Mad World, my Masters, by Middleton, 1608:—
' And in myself sooth up adulterous motions.'
To waken is to incite, to stir up. We have in the present play,
* waken'd wrath.' And in Shakspeare's 117th Sonnet, ' waken'd
hate.' Brabantio afterwards asserts : —
' That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood
He wrought upon her.'
-1 This passage has been completely misunderstood. Pagan
K K 2
370 OTHELLO, ACT 1.
SCENE III. The same. A Council Chamber.
The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a Table;
Officers attending.
Duke. There is no composition * in these news,
That gives them credit.
1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion^
My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys.
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.
2 Sen. And mine, two hundred
But though they jump not on a just account,
(As in these cases, where the aim ~ reports,
'Tis oft with difference), yet do they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;
I do not so secure me in the error,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.
Sailor. [ Within.] What ho ! what ho ! what ho
was a word of contempt,; and the reason will appear from it
etymology : — ' Paganus, villanus vel inonltus. Et derivatur
pagus quod est villa. Et quicunque habitat in villa est paganus
Praeterea quicunque est extra civitatem Dei, i. e. ecclesiam, dici
tur paganus. Anglice, a paynim.' — Ortus Vocabulorum, 1528
I know not whether pagan was ever used to designate a clowi
or rustic ; but paganical and paganalian, in a kindred sense, wer<
familiar to our elder language. Malone thinks that ' Brabanti'
is meant to allude to the common condition of all blacks, wh<
■come from their own country both slaves and pagans; and tha
he uses the word in contempt of Othello. If he is suffered t<
escape with impunity, we may expect to see all our offices o
state filled up by the pagans and bond-slaves of Africa.'
1 Composition for consistency. It has been before observec
that neivs was considered of the plural number by our ancestors
2 Aim is guess, conjecture. The quarto reads, ' they aim re
ports.' The meaning appears to be, ' In these cases where con
jecture tells the tale.' — Aim is again used as a substantive ii
Julius Caesar : —
* What you would work me to, I have some aim.'
See also vol. i. p. 137.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 371
Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.
Off. A messenger from the galleys.
Duke. Now ? the business ?
Sailor. The Turkish preparation makes forRhodes ;
50 was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo.
Duke. How say you by this change ?
1 Sen. This cannot be,
8y no assay of reason 3 ; 'tis a pageant,
To keep us in false gaze : When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk ;
And let ourselves again but understand,
That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
\o may he with more facile question4 bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace5,
But altogether lacks the abilities
"hat Rhodes is dress'd in : — if we make thought of
this,
Ve must not think, the Turk is so unskilful,
o leave that latest which concerns him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gain,
o wake, and wage 6, a danger profitless.]
Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Off. Here is more news.
3 ' Bring it to the test, examine it bv reason, it will be found
)unterfeit.'
4 That he may carry it with less dispute, with diminished op-
)sition.
5 i. e. in such state of defence. To arm was called to brace on
e armour. The seven following lines were added since the
•st edition in quarto, 1622.
6 To wage is to undertake. ' To wage law (in the common
ceptation) seems to be to follow, to urge, drive on, or prose-
ite the law or law-suits ; as to wage war is praliari, bellare, to
ive on the war, to fight in battels as warriors do.' — Blount's,
lossography. See King Lear, p. 386, note 25.
372 OTHELLO, ACT 1.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes
Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
1 Sen.. Ay, so I thought : — How many, as yoi
guess ?
Mess. Of thirty sail : and now do they restem
Their backward course, bearing with frank appear
ance
Their purposes toward Cyprus. — Signior Montano
Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
With his free duty recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him 7.
Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus, —
Marcus Lucchese, is he not in town ?
1 Sen. He's now in Florence.
Duke. Write from us ; wish8 him post-post-haste
despatch.
1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valia]
Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderig*
and Officers.
Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight empk
you
Against the general enemy Ottoman9.
7 ' He entreats you not to doubt the truth of this intelligenc
8 i. e. ' desire him to make all possible haste.' The fo)
reads: —
4 Write from us to him, post, post-haste, dispatch.'
9 It was part of the policy of the Venetian state to empl
strangers, and even Moors, in their wars. ' By lande they »
served of straungers, both for generals, for capitaines, and 1
all other men of warre, because theyr lawe permitteth not a
Venetian to be capitaine over an armie by lande; fearing,
thinke, Ctesar's example.' — Thomas's History of Italy e, p. i
See also Contaroni's Republic of Venice, by Lewkenor, 159
and Howell's Letters, sect. i. let. ,\\viii.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 373
[ did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
[To Brabantio.
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Bra. So did I yours : Good your grace, pardon me ;
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,
Bath rais'd me from my bed ; nor doth the general
care10
Take hold on me ; for my particular grief
lS of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.
Duke. Why, what's the matter ?
Bra. My daughter ! O, my daughter !
Sen. Dead ?
Bra. Ay, to me;
•he is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted
5y spells and medicines bought of mountebanks n :
7or nature so preposterously to err,
5eing not deficient, blind, or lame of sense 1C,
I ans witchcraft could not
I Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding,
I lath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself,
Lnd you of her, the bloody book of law
rou shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
juvenumque prodis
Publico, cura.' Hor.
teevens would read this line thus : —
1 Rais'd me from bed; nor doth the general care — '
tnitting Hath and my, which he considers playhouse interpo-
itions ;• by which, he says, the metre of this tragedy is too fre-
aently deranged.
11 By the Venetian law the giving love-potions was highly
riminal, as appears in the Code Delia Promission del Malefico,
q>. xvii. Dei Maleficii et Herbarie. Shakspeare may not have
nown this; but he was well acquainted with the edicts of
ames I. against
1 — practisers
Of arts inhibited, and out of warrant.'
n This line is not in the first quarto.
374 OTHELLO, ACT I.
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action 13.
Bra. Humbly I thank your grace
Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate, for the state affairs,
Hath hither brought.
Duke Sf Sen. We are very sorry for it.
Duke. What, in your own part, can you say t
this? [ToOthellc
Bra. Nothing, but this is so.
Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true ; true, I have married her ;
The very head and front of my offending 14
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speed
And little bless'd with the set15 phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pit!
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action16 in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking of myself: Yet, by your gracious p;
tience,
13 * Though our own son were the man exposed to your char
or accusation.
14 The main, the whole unextenuated. ' Frons causae not sa
honesta est' is a phrase used by Quintilian. A similar expr<
sion is found in Tamburlaine, 1590 : — •
• The man that in the forehead of his fortunes
Beares figures of renown and miracle.'
Again in Troilus and Cressida: —
• So rich advantage of a promis'd glory
As smiles upon the forehead of this action.'
16 The folio reads, ' soft phrase of peace.'
16 ' Their dearest action ;' that is, as we should say in mode
language, their best exertion. For the force of the word dear
the reader may refer to vol. i. p. 382, note 5.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 375
will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
)f my whole course of love; what drugs, what
charms,
'Vhat conjuration, and what mighty magick
For such proceeding I am charg'd withal),
won his daughter with 17.
Bra. A maiden never bold ;
)f spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
31ush'd at herself18; And she,— in spite of nature,
)f years, of country, credit, every thing, —
10 fall in love with what she fear'd to look on ?
t is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect,
^hat will confess — perfection so could err
Igainst all rules of nature ; and must be driven
\) find out practices of cunning hell,
'Vhy this should be. I therefore vouch again,
liat with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
)r with some dram conjur'd to this effect,
le wrought upon her.
Duke. To vouch this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more overt testly,
^han these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
)f modern seeming20, do prefer against him.
1 Sen. But, Othello, speak : —
)id you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ?
17 The word with, supplied in the second folio, is wanting in
le older copies. Malone contends that it is merely an elliptical
)rm of expression, and that the early copies are right.
18 Shakspeare, like other writers of his age, frequently uses
!ie personal instead of the neutral pronoun.
19 Open proofs, external evidence.
20 i. e. weak show of slight appearance. Modern is frequently
sed for trifling, slight, or trivial, by Shakspeare. The first
uarto reads : —
' These are thin habits, and poore likelyhoods
Of modern seemings you prefer against him.'
37C> OTHELLO, ACT I.
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?
Oth. I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary 21,
And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office, I do hold of you22,
Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.
Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.
Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know th«
place. — [Exeunt I ago and Attendants
And, till she come, as truly23 as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.
Duke. Say it, Othello.
Oth. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field:
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence,
And portance24 in my travel's history :
21 The sign of the fictitious creature so called. See Troili
and Cressida, Act v. Sc. 5, p. 453.
22 This line is wanting in the first quarto.
23 The first quarto reads, as faithful I: the next line is oraittt
in that copy.
24 The first quarto reads : —
• And with it all my travel's history.'
By ' my portance in my travel's history,' perhaps, is meant, n
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 377
Wherein of antres25 vast, and deserts wild26,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch
heaven,
[t was my hint to speak, such was the process ;
\nd of the cannibals that each other eat,
The anthropophagi, and men whose heads
)o grow beneath their shoulders27. These things
to hear,
arriage or behaviour in my travels, as described in my narration
f them. Portance is a word used in Coriolanus : —
* took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion,' &c.
penser likewise uses it, Faerie Queene, b. ii. c. 3 : —
1 But for in court gay portaunce he perceiv'd.'
25 i.e. caverns; from antrum, Lat. Warburton observes that
'ymer ridicules this whole circumstance ; and Shaftesbury ob-
quely sneers at it. Whoever (says Johnson) ridicules this
ccount of the progress of love, shows his ignorance not only of
istory, but of nature and manners. It is no wonder that, in any
ge, or in any nation, a lady, recluse, timorous, and delicate,
hould desire to hear of events and scenes which she could never
ae, and should admire the man who had endured dangers, and
er formed actions, which, however great, were magnified by her
uiidity.
' w The quarto and first folio read ' desarts idle ;' the second
dio reads ' desarts wilde ;' and this reading was adopted by
; 'ope ; at which Dr. Johnson expresses his surprise.
i f Mr. Malone taxes the editor of the second folio with igno-
ince of Shakspeare's meaning ; and idle is triumphantly rein-
i ;ated in the text. It does not seem to have occurred to the
l 3mmentators that wild might add a feature of some import,
I ven to a desert ; whereas idle, i. e. sterile, leaves it just as it
« >und it, and is (without a pun) the idlest epithet which .could
e applied. Mr. Pope, too, had an ear for rhythm ; and as his
:; ;ading has some touch of Shakspeare, which the other has not,
id is besides better poetry, I should hope that it would one day
\sume its proper place in the text.' — Gifford. Notes on Sejanus.
'en Jonsons Works, vol. iii. p. 14. — I have followed the sug-
estion of Mr. Giflbrd, and restored the reading of the second
>lio ; convinced by his reasoning, and believing that idle might
isil v be substituted for wilde, in the earlier copies, by a mere
pographical error.
I * Nothing excited more universal attention than the accounts
I VOL. X. L L
378 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Would Desdemona seriously incline :
But still the house affairs would draw her thence ;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse : Which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively 28 : I did consent ;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke,
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs :
She swore 29, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passin
strange ;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful :
She wish'd, she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man : she than
me;
brought by Sir Walter Raleigh, on his return from his
brated voyage to Guiana in 1595, of the cannibals, ama
and especially of the nation —
• whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.'
See his Narrative in Hackluyt's Voyages, vol. iii. ed. 1G00, f
p. 652, et seq. and p. 677, &c. A short extract of the mo
wonderful passages was also published in Latin and in sevei
other languages, in 1599, adorned with copper-plates, represe
ing these cannibals, amazons, and headless people, &c. A co
of one of the plates is given in the variorum editions of Shi
speare. These extraordinary reports were universally credite
and Othello therefore assumes no other character but what *
very common among the celebrated commanders of the poc
time.
28 Intention and attention were once synonymous. * Intenti
which Iisteneth well and is earnestly bent to a thing,' says B
lokar, in his Expositor, 1616.
29 To aver upon faith or honour was considered swearii
equally with a solemn appeal to God. See "Whitaker's Vin
cation of Mary Queen of Scots, vol. ii. p. 487.
SC. 111. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 379
A.nd bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
[ should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake :
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ;
A.nd I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd ;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.
Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter
too. —
jood Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best :
Vlen do their broken weapons rather use,
Oian their bare hands.
Bra. I pray you, hear her speak;
[f she confess, that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
ight on the man ! — Come hither, gentle mistress ;
Do you perceive in all this noble company,
Where most you owe obedience?
Bes. My noble father,
do perceive here a divided duty :
To you, I am bound for life, and education ;
VTy life, and education, both do learn me
low to respect you ; you are the lord of duty,
am hitherto your daughter : But here's my husband ;
Vnd so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
50 much I challenge that I may profess
3ue to the Moor, my lord.
Bra. God be with you ! — I have done : —
°lease it your grace, on to the state affairs;
had rather to adopt a child, than get it. —
Jome hither, Moor :
here do give thee that with all my heart,
330 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. — For your sake, jewel,
I am glad at soul I have no other child ;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them. — I have done, my lord.
Duke. Let me speak like yourself30; and lay
sentence,
Which, as a grise 31, or step, may help these lovei
Into your favour.
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended32,
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depende*
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from t
thief;
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.
Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
Butrthe free comfort which from thence he hears
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal :
30 i. e. ' let me speak as yourself would speak, were you
too much heated with passion.' — Sir J. Reynolds.
31 Grise or greese is a step; from grts, French. The w
occurs again in Timon of Athens : —
1 for every yrize of fortune
Is smoolh'd hy that below.'
Ben Jonson, in his Sejanus, has degrees in the same sense:—
• Whom when we saw lie spread on the degrees.'
32 This is expressed in a common proverbial form in Lo
Labour's Lost : —
• Past cure is still past care.'
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 381
But words are words ; I never yet did hear,
That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear33.
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation
makes for Cyprus : — Othello, the fortitude of the
place is best known to you : And though we have
there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet
Dpinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a
more safer voice on you; you must therefore be
content to slubber34 the gloss of your new fortunes
with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down 35 : I do agnize 36
A natural and prompt alacrity,
[ find in hardness ; and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
33 i. e. ' that the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the
vords of consolation.' Pierced is here used for penetrated.
Spenser has employed the word in the same figurative sense,
^aerie Queene, b. vi. c. 9 : —
' Whose senseful words empierst his hart so neare
That he was rapt with double ravishment.'
>o in his fourth book, c. viii. : —
1 Her words
Which passing through the eares, would pierce the hart.'
34 To slubber here means to obscure. So in Jeronimo, 1605,
irst part : —
' The evening too begins to slubber the day.'
he latter part of this metaphor has already occurred in Mac-
-eth :—
* golden opinions
Which should be worn now in their newest gloss.'
35 A driven bed is a bed for which the feathers have been
elected by driving with a fan, which separates the light from
lie heavy.
36 To agnize is to acknowledge, confess, or avow. Thus in a
>ummarie Report, &c. of the Speaker relative to Mary Queen
f Scots, 4to. 1586 : — ' A repentant convert agnizing her Ma-
esty's great mercie,' &c. It sometimes signified ' to know by
ome token, to admit, or allow.'
L L 2
382 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife;
Due reference of place, and exhibition37.
With such accommodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.
Duke. If you please,
Be't at her father's.
Bra. I'll not have it so.
Oth. Nor I.
Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside
To put my father in impatient thoughts,
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear 38 ;
And let me find a charter in your voice 39,
To assist my simpleness.
Duke. What would you, Desdemona?
Des. That I did love the Moor to live with bin
My downright violence and storm of fortunes 40
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdued
Even to the very quality 41 of my lord :
37 ' I desire that proper disposition be made for my wife, th
she may have a fit place appointed for her residence, and su(
alloivance, accommodation, and attendance as befits her rank
Exhibition for allowance has already occurred in King Lear, ai
in The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
38 Thus in the quarto 1622. The folio, to avoid the repe
tion of the same epithet, reads : —
• Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a prosperous ear.'
i. e. a propitious ear.
39 That is, • let your favour privilege me.'
40 By her 'downright violence and storm of fortunes' Des(
mona means, the bold and derisive measure she had taken,
following the dictates of passion, and giving herself to the Mo<
regardless of her parent's displeasure, the forms of her count.
and the future inconveniences she might be subject to, by ' tyi
her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, in an extravagant and whe
ing stranger, of here and every Where.' This was truly taki
her fortunes by storm.
41 Quality here, as in other passages of Shakspeare, met
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 383
[ saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honours, and his valiant parts,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
A. moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence : Let me go with him.
Oth. Your voices, lords — 'beseech you, let her
will
Have a free way.
Vouch with me, heaven; I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat (the young affects,
In me defunct) and proper satisfaction42;
profession. ' My heart is so entirely devoted to Othello, that I
vill even encounter the dangers of his military profession with
)im.' The quarto reads, ' My heart's subdued even to the ut-
most pleasure of my lord.'
42 Steevens reads, at the suggestion of Sir T. Hanmer: —
i Nor to comply with heat, the young affects,
In my distinct and proper satisfaction.'
Vlalone reads disjunct instead of distinct. In the Bondman of
tfassinger we have a passage evidently copied from this speech
>f Othello:—
1 ■ Let me wear
Your colours, lady, and though youthful heats
That look no further than your outward form
Are long since buried in me, while I live,
I am a constant lover of you mind,' &c.
Mr. Gifford observes that, ' as this shows how Shakspeare's
ontemporaries understood the lines, it should, I think, with us
>e decisive of their meaning.' — The admirers of Shakspeare
annot but recollect with dismay the prodigious mass of conjec-
ural criticism accumulated on this simple passage, as well as
he melancholy presage with which it terminates ; that after all
' it will probably prove a lasting source of doubt and contro-
p ersy.' I confess I see little or rather no occasion for either :
lor can I possibly conceive why, after the rational and unforced
•xplanation of Johnson, the worthless reveries of Theobald,
Toilet, &c. were admitted. — Affects occur incessantly in the
ense of passions, affections : young affects are therefore per-
384 OTHELLO, ACT I.
But to be free and bounteous to her mind :
And heaven defend your good souls, that you thin
I will your serious and great business scant,
For43 she is with me : No, when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness
My speculative and active instruments **,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation 45 !
Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine
Either for her stay, or going : the affair cries — hast
And speed must answer it; you must hence to-nigh
Des. To-night, my lord?
Duke. This night.
fectlj synonymous with youthful heats. Othello, like Time
was not an old man, though he had lost the fire of youth ; t
critics might therefore have dismissed their concern for' t
lady, which they have so delicately communicated for the edi
cation of the rising generation. Mr. Giftord suggests that Sha
speare may have given affect in the singular to correspond wi
heat. Affect is also used for passion, in an Elegy on the Dea
of Sir Thomas Wyatt, by Lord Surrey : —
* An eye whose judgement none affect could blinde,
Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile.'
Dr. Johnson's explanation is: — ' I ask it not (says Othello)
please appetite, or satisfy loose desires, the passions of youth whi
I have now outlived, or for any particular gratification of n
self, but merely that I may indulge the wishes of my wii
Upton had previously changed my, the reading of the old coj
to me; but he has printed effects, not seeming to know tl
affects could be a noun.
13
cause.
44 Thus the folio ; except that, instead of active instrunm
it has offie'd instrument. The quarto reads * And feather'd <
pid foils,' &c. Speculative instruments, in Shakspeare's 1
guage, are the eyes ; and active instruments, the hands and f
To seel is to close up. The meaning of the passage appears
be, ' When the pleasures and idle toys of love make me u.
either for seeing the duties of my office, or for the ready p
formance of them.'
45 The quarto reads reputation.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 385
Oth. With all my heart.
Duke. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
)thello, leave some officer behind,
Vnd he shall our commission bring to you :
Vith such things else of quality and respect,
^s doth import you.
Oth. Please your grace, my ancient;
\. man he is of honesty and trust :
^o his conveyance I assign my wife,
Vith what else needful your good grace shall think
.\> be sent after me.
Duke. Let it be so. —
jood night to every one. — And, noble signior,
[To Brabantio.
f virtue no delighted46 beauty lack,
four son-in-law is far more fair than black.
1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor ! use Desdemona well.
Bra. Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye to see ;
^he has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, #c.
Oth. My life upon her faith. — Honest Iago,
Hy Desdemona must I leave to thee ;
. pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her ;
Ind bring them after in the best advantage 47. —
]ome, Desdemona; I have but an hour
3f love, of worldly matters and direction,
Co spend with thee: we must obey the time.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Rod. Iago.
Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou?
Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep.
Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.
Iago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee
ifter it. Why, thou silly gentleman !
46 Deliyhted for delighting. See vol. i. p. 54, note 22.
47 i. e. fairest opportunity.
386 OTHELLO, ACT I.
Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a tor
ment : and then have we a prescription to die, whe:
death is our physician.
Iago. O villanous! I have looked upon th
world for four times seven years48! and since
could distinguish between a benefit and an injurj
I never found a man that knew how to love hin
self. Ere I would say, I would drown myself fc
the love of a Guinea-hen49, I would change m
humanity with a baboon.
Rod. What should I do? I confess, it is m
shame to be so fond; but it is not in virtue 1
amend it.
Iago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that v>
are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens ; I
the which, our wills are gardeners : so that if y
will plant nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, ar
weed up thyme ; supply it with one gender of herb
or distract it with many; either to have it stei
with idleness, or manured with industry : why, tl
power and corrigible authority of this lies in o
wills. If the balance50 of our lives had not 01
scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, tl
blood and baseness of our natures would condu
us to most preposterous conclusions : But we ha
reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal sting
48 That Iago means to say he was but twenty-eight years o
is clearly ascertained by bis marking particularly, though in<
finitely, a period within that time [' and since I could distinguis
&c] when he began to make observations on the characters
men. Waller, on a picture which was painted for him in
youth by Cornelius Jansen, and which is now in the possess
of his heir, has expressed the same thought : ' Anno a^tatis S
vitce vix primo. — In the novel, on which Othello is found
Iago is described as a young handsome man.
49 A Guinea-lien was a cant term for a woman of easy virt
50 The folio reads 'if the brain;' probably a mistake
beam.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 387
>ur unbitted51 lusts; whereof I take this, that you
•all — love, to be a sect52, or scion.
Rod. It cannot be.
Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a per-
nission of the will. Come, be a man: Drown
hyself? drown cats, and blind puppies. I have
nrofessed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to
hy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness ;
could never better stead thee than now. Put
aoney in thy purse ; follow these wars ; defeat thy
avour with an usurped beard53; I say, put money
i thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should
jng continue her love to the Moor, — put money in
by purse; — nor he his to her: it was a violent
ommencement, and thou shalt see an answerable
equestration54; — put but money in thy purse. —
?hese Moors are changeable in their wills: — fill
try purse with money : the food that to him now is
s luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as
itter as coloquintida55. She must change for
51 So iii A Knack to Know an Honest Man, 1596 : —
' Virtue never taught thee that,
She sets a bit upon her bridled lusts.'
ee also As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 4 : —
' For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself.'
'2 A sect is what the gardeners call a cutting.
53 I have already observed that defeat was used for disjigure-
ent or alteration of features: from the French dtfaire. See
\ ol. iv. p. 144, note 12. Favour means that combination of fea-
ires which gives the face its distinguishing character.
54 Sequestration is defined to be ' a putting apart, a separation
F a thing from the possession of both those that contend for it.'
is not therefore necessary to suppose any change requisite in
ie text. In another passage of this play we have ' a sequester
om liberty.' So in Romeo and Juliet : —
' These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die.'
30 The quarto reads ' as acerb as coloquintida.' The poet
id the third chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel in his thoughts,
388 OTHELLO, ACT I.
youth ; when she is sated with his body, she will
find the error of her choice. — She must have change,
she must; therefore put money in thy purse. — If
thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate
way than drowning. Make all the money thou
canst : If sanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an
erring56 barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian, be
not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell,
thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A
pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way :
seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy
joy, than to be drowned and go without her.
Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
on the issue ?
Iago. Thou art sure of me ; — Go, make money :
— I have told thee often, and I retell thee again
and again, I hate the Moor : My cause is hearted 57
thine hath no less reason : Let us be conjunctive ii
in which we are told that John the Baptist lived in the wilder
ness on locusts and wild honey. Mr. Douce observes, that ' then
is another phrase of the same kind, viz. to exchange herb Johnfo,
coloquintida. It is used in Osborne's Memoirs of James I. am
elsewhere. The pedantic Tomlinson, in his translation of Reno
dasus's Dispensatory, says, that many superstitious persons cal
milkwort St. John's herb, wherewith he circumcinged his loin
on holidays. Shakspeare, who was extremely well acquaints
with popular superstitions, might have recollected this circum
stance, when, for reasons best known to himself, he chose t
vary the phrase by substituting the luscious locusts of the Bar
tist. Whether these were the fruit of the tree so called, or tli
well known insect, is not likely to be determined. It is sai
that the insect locusts are considered a delicacy at Tonquii
Bullein says that ' coloquintida is most bitter.' — Bulwarke (
Defence, 1579.
56 Erring is the same as erraticus in Latin. So in Hamlet :
' Th' extravagant and erring spirit.'
And in As You Like It : —
1 how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgi image.'
1,7 This adjective occurs again in Act iii. : — ' hearted throne.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 389
our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold
him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport;
There are many events in the womb of time, which
will be delivered. Traverse58; go: provide thy
money. We will have more of this to-morrow. —
Adieu.
Rod. Where shall we meet i'the morning?
Iago. At my lodging.
Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago. Go to ; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo ?
Rod. What say you ?
Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all my land.
Iago. Go to; farewell: put money enough in
your purse. [Exit Roderigo.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse :
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
?If I would time expend with such a snipe59,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office : I know not if it be true ;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety60. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man : Let me see now;
To get his place, and to plume61 up my will;
A double knavery, — How ? how ? — Let me see : —
\fter some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife : —
He hath a person ; and a smooth dispose
58 i. e. march. See vol. v. p. 325, note 15.
59 Woodcock was the general term for a foolish fellow. Iago
s more sarcastic, and compares his dupe to a smaller and meaner
>ird of almost the same shape.
60 That is, I will act as if I were certain of the fact. ' He
olds me well,' is, he entertains a good opinion of me.
01 The first quarto reads ' to make up.'
VOL. X. M M
390 OTHELLO, ACT I.
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false,
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so ;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.
I have't; — it is engenger'd: — Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. A Seaport Town in Cyprus \ A
Platform.
Enter Montano and Two Gentlemen.
Man. What from the cape can you discern at sea
1 Gent. Nothing at all : it is a high- wrought flood;
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven 2 and the main,
Descry a sail.
1 All the modern editors following Rowe have supposed thi
capital of Cyprus to be the place where the scene of Othello lie
during four Acts : but this could not have been Shakspeare'
intention ; Nicosia, the capital city of Cyprus, being situatet
nearly in the centre of the island, and thirty miles distant from th«
sea. The principal seaport town of Cyprus is Famagusta ; when
there was formerly a strong fort and commodious haven, ' near
which (says Knolles) standeth an old castle, with four tower
after the ancient manner of building.' To this castle we find tha
Othello presently repairs. Centhis, in the novel, makes no mei
tion of any attack on Cyprus by the Turks ; but they took th
island from the Venetians in 1570. By mentioning Rhodes a
likely to be attacked by the Turks, the historical fact is disrt
garded ; for they were in quiet possession of that island, an
had been masters of it since the year 1522; and from 1472
when the Venetians first became possessed of Cyprus, to 152$
they had not been molested by any Turkish armament.
2 The quarto reads : —
• 'twixt the haven and the main ;'
and Malone adopts that reading. Perhaps the poet wrote ' tl
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 391
Mori. Methinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at land :
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements :
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them3,
Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this?
2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet :
For do but stand upon the foaming shore 4,
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds ;
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous
main,
Seems to cast water on the burning bear 5,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole :
I never did like molestation view
On the' enchafed flood.
Mon. If that the Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'd and embay 'd, they are drown'd ;
It is impossible they bear it out.
Enter a third Gentleman.
3 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done:
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
heavens' A subsequent passage may serve to show that the
folio affords the true reading: —
' Let's to the seaside, ho !
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As throw our eyes out for brave Othello :
Even till we make the main and the ethereal blue
An indistinct regard.'
3 The quarto of 1622 reads ' when the huge mountaine meslt,
the letter s, which perhaps belongs to mountaine, having wan-
dered at press from its place. In a subsequent scene we have :
' And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus high'
And in Troilus and Cressida : —
' The strong ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cuts.'
4 The elder quarto reads 'the banning shore.
5 The constellation near the polar star. The next line alludes
to the star Arctophylax, which literally signifies the guard of
the bear. The 4 to. 1622 reads ' e\er-fii-ed pole.'
392 OTHELLO, ACT II.
That their designment halts : A noble ship of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
Mora. How! is this true?
3 Gent. The ship is here put in,
A Veronese6; Michael Cassio, .
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore : the Moor himself s at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mon. I am glad on't ; 'tis a worthy governor.
3 Gent . But this same Cassio, — though he speak
of comfort,
Touching the Turkish loss, — yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe ; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Mem. 'Pray heaven, he be;
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full 7 soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho !
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As throw out our eyes for brave Othello ;
Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue,
An indistinct regard.
3 Gent. Come, let's do so ;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Enter Cassio.
Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor; O, let the heavens
6 The old copy reads 'a Veronessa ;' whether this signifie<
a ship fitted out by the people of Verona, who were tributary 1
the Venetian republic, or designated some particular kind 0
vessel, is not yet fully established. But as Veronessa has no
hitherto been met with elsewhere, the former is most probabl
the true explanation.
7 a full soldier is a complete one. See Act i. Sc. 1, note 13.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 393
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
Mon. Is he well shipp'd ?
Cas. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance 8 ;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure9.
[Within.] A sail, a sail, a sail !
Enter another Gentleman.
Cas. What noise ?
4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'the sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry — a sail.
Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor.
2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy ;
[Guns heard.
Our friends, at least.
Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.
2 Gent. I shall. [Exit.
Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?
Cas. Most fortunately : he hath achiev'd a maid
That paragons description, and wild fame ;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens 10,
8 i. e. of allowed and approved expertness.
9 The meaning seems to be, ' Therefore my hopes, not sur-
feited to death, by excess of apprehension, stand in confidence of
being cured.' A parallel expression occurs in Lear : —
' This rest might yet have balm'd his broken senses,
Which if conveniency will not allow
Stand in hard cure.'
Again: —
• — — his life with thine
Staitd ifi assured loss.'
Solomon has said * Hope deferred maketh the heart sick/
10 Thus in Shakspeare's 103rd Sonnet : —
1 a face
That over-goes my blunt invention qnile,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.'
M M 2
394 OTHELLO, ACT II.
And in the essential vesture of creation,
Does bear all excellency n. — How now ? who lias
put in ?
Re-enter second Gentleman.
2 Gent. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed :
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, —
Traitors ensteep'd 12 to clog the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal13 natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
Mon. What is she ?
Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's
captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago ;
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A se'nnight's speed. — Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath ;
11 This is the reading of the quartos : the folio has : —
1 And in the essential vesture of creation
Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.' ,
By the essential vesture of creation the poet means her outwart
form, which he in another place calls ' the muddy vesture of de
cay.' If the reading of the folio be adopted, the meaning woulc
be this : She is one who excels all description, and in real
beauty, or outward form, goes beyond the power of the inventive
pencil of the artist. — Fleckno, in his discourse on the Englisl
Stage, 1064, speaking of painting, mentions ' the stupendous
works of your great iiujeniers.' And Ben Jonson, in his Sejanus
Act iv. Sc. 4 : —
' No, Silius, we are no good ingeniers,
We want the fine arts.'
An ingenier or ingeniuer undoubtedly means an artist or painter
and is perhaps only another form of engineer, anciently used io
any kind of artist or artificer.
12 ' Traitors ensteepea" are merely traitors concealed under th>
water.
13 Mortal is deadly, destructive.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 395
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants irT Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort! — O, behold,
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo,
and Attendants.
The riches of the ship is come on shore 14 !
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees : —
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round !
Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord 1
Cas. He is not yet arriv'd; nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Des. O, but I fear; — How lost you company?
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship : But, hark ! a sail.
[Cry within, A sail, a sail ! Then guns heard.
2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel ;
This likewise is a friend.
Cas. See for the news 15. —
[Exit Gentleman.
Good ancient, you are welcome; — Welcome, mis-
tress:— [7b Emilia.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners ; 'tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
[Kissing her.
Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.
14 ' The riches of the ship is come on shore.' Shakspeare
uses riches as a singular in his eighty-seventh Sonnet : —
* And for that riches, where is my deserving V
15 The iirst quarto reads ' So speaks this voice.'
396 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Des. Alas, she has no speech.
Iago. In faith too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep :
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
Emil. You have little cause to say so.
Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out
of doors,
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries16, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives ii
your beds.
Des. O, fye upon thee, slanderer!
Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk ;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Emil. You shall not write my praise.
Iago. No, let me not
Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thoi
should' st praise me ?
Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not critical 17.
Des. Come on, assay : — There's one gone to th«
harbour ?
Iago. Ay, madam.
Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. —
Come, how would'st thou praise me?
Iago. I am about it ; but, indeed, my invention
16 That is When 30U have a mind to do injuries, you put 0
an air of sanctity. In Puttenham's Art of Poesie, 1585), we 1m
almost the same thoughts : — ' We limit the comely parts of
woman to consist in four points ; that is, to be a shrew in l!
kitchen, a saint in the church, an angel at hoard, and an ape i
the bed ; as the chronicle reports by mistress Shore, paramoi
to King Edward the Fourth.' There is something similar i
Middleton's Blurt Master Constable, 1002 ; and it is alluded 1
in The Miseries of Fnforc'd Marriage, 1607.
17 i.e. censorious.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 397
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize18,
It plucks out brains and all : But my muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd.
If she be fair and wise, — fairness, and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
Des. Well prais'd ! How if she be black and witty ?
Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fitly.
Des. Worse and worse.
Emil. How, if fair and foolish ?
Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair ;
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools
laugh i'the alehouse. What miserable praise hast
thou for her that's foul and foolish ?
Iago. There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
Des. O heavy ignorance ! — thou praisest the worst
best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a
deserving woman indeed20 ! one, that, in the autho-
rity of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of
very malice itself21 ?
Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud ;
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud ;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay ;
Fled from her wish, and yet said, — now I may;
18 A similar thought occurs in The Puritan : — ' The excuse
stuck upon my tongue like ship-pitch upon a mariner's gown.'
19 The quarto reads — hit.
20 The hint for this question and the metrical reply of Iago is
taken from a strange pamphlet called Choice, Chance, and
Change, or Conceits in their Colours, 1606.
21 The sense is this — one that was so conscious of her own
merit, and of the authority her character had with every one,
that she durst call upon malice itself to vouch for her. This was
some commendation. And the character only of clearest virtue ;
which could force malice, even against its nature, to do justice.
— Warburton. To put on is to provoke, to incite.
398 OTHELLO, ACT II.
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly :
She, that in wisdom never was so frail,
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail22;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind ;
She was a wight, — if ever such wight were, —
Des. To do what?
Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer 2:
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion!—
Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be th
husband. — How say you, Cassio ? is he not a mos
profane 24 and liberal counsellor ?
Cas. He speaks home, madam ; you may relis
him more in the soldier, than in the scholar.
Iago. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm: Ay
well said, whisper : with as little a web as this, wi;
I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upo
her, do; I will gyve25 thee in thine own courtshir
You say true ; 'tis so indeed : if such tricks as thes
strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been bettc
you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, whic
now again you are most apt to play the sir ir
22 That is to exchange a delicacy for coarser fare. See Quee
Elizabeth's Household Boojk for the forty-third year of ht
reign : — • Item, the master cookes have to fee all the salmon,
tailes,' &c. p. 29G.
23 i. e. ' to suckle children and keep the accounts of the housi
hold.' These expressions are only instances of the want <
natural affection, and the predominance of a critical censoriou
ness in Iago, which he allows himself to be possessed of, whei
he says ' O ! I am nothing if not critical.'
24 See Act i. Sc. 1, note 20. Liberal is licentious.
25 To gyve is to fetter, to shackle. The first quarto reads —
will catch you in your own courtsies. It may be as well 1
observe that courtship is the same as courtesy, i. e. complimentar
or courtly behaviour. To play the sir is to show good breedin
and gallantry.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 399
Very good ; well kissed ! an excellent courtesy !
'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your
lips ? 'would, they were clyster-pipes for your sake !
[Trumpet.] The Moor, I know his trumpet.
Cas. 'Tis truly so.
Des. Let's meet him, and receive him.
Cas. Lo, where he comes !
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth. O my fair warrior "d !
Des. My dear Othello !
Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content,
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy !
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death !
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas,
Olympus-high ; and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die,
Twere now to be most happy 27 ; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
26 This phrase was introduced by our copiers of the French
ionnetteers. Ronsard frequently calls his mistresses guerrieres ;
ind Southern, his imitator, is not less prodigal of the same appel-
ation. Thus in his fifth sonnet : —
' And my fair warrior, my light shines in thy fair eyes.'
And in his sixth sonnet he uses it twice : —
* I am not, my cruel warrier, the Thebain,' &c.
' I came not, my warrier, of the blood Lidain.'
Had not I met with the word thus fantastically applied, I should
lave concluded that Othello called his wife a warrior because
;he embarked with him on a warlike expedition, and notiucon-
;equence of Ovid's observation : —
' Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido.'
Oesdemona in Act iii. says : — ' Unhandsome warrior as I am.' —
Vteevens.
27 So Cherea in The Eunuch of Terence, Act iii. Sc. 5 : —
' Proh Jupiter !
Nunc tempus profecto est, cum perpeti me possum interfici,
Ne vita aliqua hoc gaudium contaminet aegritudine.'
400 OTHELLO, ACT II.
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
Des. The heavens forbid,
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow !
Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers !—
I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here ; it is too much of joy :
And this, and this, the greatest discords be 28,
[Kissing ha
That e'er our hearts shall make !
Iago. O, you are well tun'd now
But I'll set down the pegs that make this musick,
As honest as I am. [AsicU
Oth. Come, let's to the castle. —
News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks ar
drown'd.
How do our old acquaintance of this isle ? —
Honey, you shall be well desir'd 29 in Cyprus,
I have found great love amongst them. O my swee
I prattle out of fashion 30, and I dote
In mine own comforts. — I pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers :
Bring thou the master 31 to the citadel ;
28 Thus in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion: —
1 I pri'thee chide, if I have done amiss,
But let my punishment be this and this, [Kissing the Moot
Marlowe's play was written before that of Shakspeare, wl
might possibly have acted in it.
29 i.e. much solicited by invitation. So in The Letters of tl
Paston Family, vol. i. p. 299 : — ' At the which weddyng I W;
with myn hostes, and also desyrydby ye jentylman hymselfe.'
30 Out of method, without any settled order of discourse.
31 The master is a distinct person from the pilot of a vess(
and has the principal care and command of the vessel under tl
captain, where there is a captain ; and in chief where there
none. Dr. Johnson confounded the master with the pilot, ai
the poet himself seems to have done so. See the first line
Scene 2, Act iii.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 401
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and
Attendants.
lago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour.
Come hither. -If thou be'st valiant as (they say)
base men, being in love, have then a nobility in
their natures more than is native to them, — list me.
The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of
»uard 32 : — First, I must tell thee this — Desdemona
is directly in love with him.
Rod. With him ! why, 'tis not possible.
Iago. Lay thy finger — thus33, and let thy soul be
nstructed. Mark me with what violence she first
oved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her
antastical lies : And will she love him still for
nrating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her
iye must be fed ; and what delight shall she have
o look on the devil ? When the blood is made dull
vith the act of sport, there should be, — again to
nflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appetite, —
oveliness in favour ; sympathy in years, manners,
md beauties ; all which the Moor is defective in :
Vow, for want of these required conveniences, her
lelicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to
leave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor;
ery nature will instruct her in it, and compel her
o some second choice. Now, sir, this granted (as
t is a most pregnant and unforced position), who
tands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as
^assio does ? a knave very voluble, no further con-
cionable, than in putting on the mere form of civil
12 That is the place where the guard musters.
33 On thy mouth to stop it, while thou art listening to a wiser
tan.
VOL. X. N N
402 OTHELLO, ACT II.
and humane seeming, for the better compassing oi
his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
none ; why, none : A slippery and subtle knave ; a
finder out of occasions ; that has an eye can stamj
and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage
never present itself: A devilish knave! besides
the knave is handsome, young; and hath all those
requisites in him, that folly and green minds 3* loo!
after : A pestilent complete knave ; and the womai
hath found him already.
Rod. I cannot believe that in her ; she is full o
most blessed condition 35.
Iago. Blessed fig's end ! the wine she drinks i
made of grapes : if she had been blessed, she woulc
never have loved the Moor ; Blessed pudding ! Dids
thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand
didst not mark that ?
Rod. Yes, that I did ; but that was but courtesy
Iago. Lechery, by his hand; an index36, an*
obscure prologue to the history of lust and fou
thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that thei
breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts
Roderigo ! when these mutualities so marshal th
way, hard at hand comes the master and mai
exercise, the incorporate conclusion : Pish ! — Bui
sir, be you ruled by me : I have brought you froi
Venice. Watch you to-night; for the commanc
I'll lay't upon you : Cassio knows you not ; — I'
not be far from you : Do you find some occasio
to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, c
tainting37 his discipline ; or from what other cours
34 Minds unripe, minds not yet fully formed.
35 Qualities, disposition of mind.
36 It has already been observed that indexes were former
prefixed to books. See vol. vii. p. 348.
37 Throwing a slur upon his discipline. So in Troilus ai
Cressida, Act i. Sc. 3 : —
4 In taint of our best man.'
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 403
you please, which the time shall more favourably
minister.
Rod. Well.
Iago. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden x in choler ;
and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you :
Provoke him, that he may : for, even out of that,
will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny ; whose
qualification39 shall come into no true taste again,
but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have
a shorter journey to your desires, by the means I
shall then have to prefer40 them; and the impedi-
ment most profitably removed, without the which
there were no expectation of our prosperity.
Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any oppor-
tunity.
Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at
the citadel : I must fetch his necessaries ashore.
Farewell.
Rod. Adieu. [Exit.
Iago, That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit :
The Moor — howbeit that I endure him not, —
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now I do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust (though, peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin),
'But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
38 Sudden is precipitately violent. So Malcolm, describing
Macbeth :—
* I grant him bloody —
Sudden, malicious.'
39 Johnson has erroneously explained this. Qualification, in
our old writers, signifies appeasement, pacification, assicagement of
anger. f To appease and qualifie one that is angry ; tranquillum
facere ex irate' — Baret.
40 To advance tbem.
404 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Hath leap'd into my seat : the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw rny inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul,
Till I am even41 with him, wife for wife;
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, —
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace42
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ;
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb43,
41 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio— till I am evend witL
him : i. e. till I am on a level with him by retaliation.
42 ' If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, bear the putting on,' &c.
This is the reading of the folio, which, though it has a plain anc
easy sense, would not do for the commentators, and the quartc
of 1622 reading crush, they altered it to trash, signifying to im
pede, to keep back (see vol. i. p. 15, note 9), a meaning the verj
converse of that required by the context ; to say nothing of th<
wretched jingle of trash and trash; which Steevens is pleasec
to consider ' much in Shakspeare's manner'! The fact is, V
trace means neither more nor less than to follow, the appropriat
hunting term ; the old French tracer, tracher, trasser, and th
Italian tracciare having the same meaning. Steevens is sadl;
pat to it to explain how keejring Roderigo back and putting hii,
on can quadrate, and all is doubt and perplexity. Bishop Hall
in the third satire of his fifth book, uses trace for to follow : —
• Go on and thrive, my petty tyrant's pride,
Scorn thou to live, if others live beside ;
And trace proud Castile, that aspires to be
In his old age a young fifth monarchy.'
So Cavendish, in his Metrical Visions, p. 114 : —
' Fortune hath me forsake,
Whom she heretofore highly did advaunce,
And traced me forth in the pleasant dance
Of worldly honours and bighe dignytie.'
The phrase to have on the hip, which is also from the chase, is ex
plained in vol. iii. p. 17, note 2. We should perhaps read : —
' If this poor brach [i. e. hound] of Venice,' &c.
43 ' In the rank garb,' which has puzzled Steevens and M<
lone, is merely ' in the right down, or straight forward fashion
In As You Like It we have ' the right butterwoman's rank t
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 405
For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too ;
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an ass,
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confus'd ;
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd44.
[Exit.
SCENE II. A Street.
Enter a Herald, with a Proclamation ; People
following.
Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, im-
porting the mere1 perdition of the Turkish fleet,
every man put himself into triumph ; some to dance,
some to make bonfires, each man to what sport
and revels his addiction leads him ; for, besides
these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
nuptials : So much was his pleasure should be
proclaimed. All offices2 are open; and there is
full liberty of feasting, from this present hour of five,
till the bell hath told eleven. Heaven bless the
isle of Cyprus, and our noble general Othello !
[Exeunt.
market.' And in King Lear, Cornwall says of Kent in dis-
guise, that he ' doth aflect a saucy roughness, and constrains the
garb (i. e. assumes the fashion ) quite from his nature.' Gower
says of Fluellen, in King Henry V. : — 'You thought, because he
could not speak English in the native garb, he could not there-
fore handle an English cudgel.' The folio reads — ' in the right
garb.'
44 ' An honest man acts upon a plan, and forecasts his de-
signs ; but a knave depends upon temporary and local opportu-
nities, and never knows his own purpose, but at the time of
execution.' — Johnson.
1 Mere is entire.
2 All rooms, or places in the castle, at which refreshments are
prepared or served out. See vol. viii. p. 40, note 14.
NN2
406 OTHELLO, ACT II.
SCENE III. A Hall in the Castle.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and
Attendants.
Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-
night :
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to outsport discretion.
Cas. Iago hath direction what to do ;
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.
Oth. Iago is most honest.
Michael, good night : To-morrow, with our earliest
Let me have speech with you. — Come, my dear love
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue ;
[To Desdemona
That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you. —
Good night. [Exeunt Oth. Des. and Attend
Enter Iago.
Cas. Welcome, Iago : We must to the watch.
Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet tei
o'clock: Our general cast1 us thus early, for th<
love of his Desdemona ; whom let us not therefor*
blame ; he hath not yet made wanton the night witl
her : and she is sport for Jove.
Cas. She's a most exquisite lady.
Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game.
Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicat<
creature.
1 i. e. dismissed us, threw us off, or rid himself of our com
pany. The Herald has just informed us that there was fuJ
liberty of feasting, &c. till eleven. So in The Witch, by Mid
dleton : — i
'She cast off
My company betimes to-night, by tricks,' &c.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. v 407
Iago. What an eye she has ! methinks it sounds
a parley of provocation.
Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right
modest.
Iago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarm
to love ?
Cas. She is, indeed, perfection2.
Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets ! Come,
lieutenant, I have a stoop of wine ; and here without
are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have
a measure to the health of the black Othello.
Cas. Not to-night, good Iago ; I have very poor
and unhappy brains for drinking; I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of enter-
tainment.
Iago. O, they are our friends ; but one cup ; I'll
drink for you.
Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and
that was craftily qualified3 too, and, behold, what
innovation it makes here : I am unfortunate in the
infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any
more.
Iago. What, man ! 'tis a night of revels ; the
gallants desire it.
Cas. Where are they ?
Iago. Here at the door ; I pray you, call them in.
Cas. I'll do't; but it dislikes me. [Exit CAssio.
Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool,
Koderigo,
2 In this and the seven short speeches preceding, the decent
character of Cassio is most powerfully contrasted with that of
the licentious Iago.
3 Slily mixed with water.
408 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side out
ward,
To Desdemona hath to-night carous'd
Potations pottle deep ; and he's to watch:
Three lads of Cyprus, — noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle4,
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock c
drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle : — But here they come :
If consequence do but approve my dream 5,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Re-enter Cassio, with him Montano, and
Gentlemen.
Cas. 'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse
already.
Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint, a
T am a soldier7.
Iago. Some wine, ho !
And let me the canakin clink, clink ; [Sing
And let me the canakin clink:
A soldier's a man ;
A life's but a span ;
Why then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys ! [ Wine brought it
4 ■ As quarrelsome as the discordia semina rerura ; as quit
in opposition as fire and water.' — Johnson.
5 Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination may 1
termed a dream.
6 See Hamlet, p. 172 ante, note 21.
7 ' If Montano was Othello's predecessor in the governme
of Cyprus (as we are told in the Persona? Dramatis) he is n<
very characteristically employed in the present scene, wlie
he is tippling with people already flustered, and encouraging
subaltern officer, who commands a midnight guard, to drink
excess.' — 8tee tens.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 409
Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song.
lago. I learned it in England, where (indeed)
they are most potent in potting : your Dane, your
German, and your swag-bellied Hollander, — Drink,
ho! — are nothing to your English.
Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drink-
ing8?
lago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your
Dane dead drunk ; he sweats not to overthrow your
Almain ; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the
next pottle can be filled.
Cas. To the health of our general.
Man. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you
justice9.
lago. O sweet England !
King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown ;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he calVd the tailor — lown.
8 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio has — exquisite. This
accomplishment is likewise mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher
in The Captain : —
' Lod. Are the Englishmen
Such stubborn drinkers ?
4 Piso. ■ not a leak at sea
Can suck more liquor ; you shall have their children
Christen'd in mull'd sack, and at five years old
Able to knock a Dane down.'
Henry Peacham in his Compleat Gentleman, 1622, p. 193, has a
section entitled ' Drinking the Plague of our English Gentry,'
in which he says : — ' Within these tiftie or threescore yeares it
was a rare thing with us to see a drunken man, our nation carry-
ing the name of the most sober and temperate of any other in the
world. But since we had to doe in the quarrell of the Nether-
lands, about the time of Sir John Norris his first being there,
the custom of drinking and pledging healthes was brought over
into England; wherein let the Dutch be their owne judges, if
we equall them not ; yea I think rather excell them.'
9 i. e. drink as much as you do. See King Henrv IV. Part II.
Act v. Sc. 2.
410 OTHELLO, ACT II.
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree :
' Tis pride that pulls the country down :
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho !
Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the
other.
Iago. Will you hear it again ?
Cas. No ; for I hold him to be unworthy of his
place, that does those things. — Well, — Heaven's
above all : and there be souls that must be saved,
and there be souls must not be saved.
Iago. It's true, good lieutenant.
Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the gene-
ral, or any man of quality, — I hope to be saved.
Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant.
Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me ; the
lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
have no more of this ; let's to our affairs. — Forgive
us our sins ! — Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my
ancient ; — this is my right hand, and this is my left
hand : — I am not drunk now ; I can stand well
enough, and speak well enough.
All. Excellent well.
Cas. Why, very well, then; you must not think
then that I am drunk. [Exit.
Mon. To the platform, masters ; come, let's sel
the watch.
Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before ; —
He is a soldier, fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction : and do but see. his vice;
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other : 'tis pity of him.
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
SC. IH. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 411
On some odd time of his infirmity
Will shake this island.
Mon. But is he often thus ?
Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep :
He'll watch the horologe a double set10,
If drink rock not his cradle.
Mon. It were well,
The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps, he sees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils; Is not this true?
Enter Roderigo.
Iago. How now, Roderigo ? [Aside.
•I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
[Exit Roderigo.
Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,
'With one of an ingraft u infirmity ;
■It were an honest action, to say
-So to the Moor.
Iago. Not I, for this fair island :
I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil. But hark ! what noise ?
[Cry within — Help ! help !
Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.
Cos. You rogue ! you rascal !
Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant ?
10 If be have no drink, he'll keep awake while the clock
strikes two rounds, or four and twenty hours. The word hvro-
'oge is familiar to most of our ancient writers : Chaucer often
uses it. So in The Devil's Charter, 1G0T :—
' My gracious lord,
By Sesto's horologe 'tis struck eleven.'
11 Rooted, settled.
412 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Cas. A knave ! — teach me my duty !
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen12 bottle.
Rod. Beat me !
Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue?
[Striking Roderigo
Mon. Nay, good lieutenant
[Staying him
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
Cas. Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
Mon. Come, come, you're drunk
Cas. Drunk! [They fight
Iago. Away, I say ! go out, and cry — a mutiny
[Aside to Rod. who goes out
Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen, —
Help, ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir; —
Help, masters ! — Here's a goodly watch, indeed !
[Bell rings
Who's that that rings the bell ?— Diablo, ho !
The town will rise ; God's will, lieutenant ! hold;
You will be sham'd for ever.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth. What is the matter here
Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death ; — h<
dies 13.
Oth. Hold, for your lives.
Iago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano,—
gentlemen, —
12 i. e. a wickered bottle, and so the quarto reads.
13 The first quarto omits the words — he dies, and has zounds
at the commencement of the line. Montano may be supposec
to say — he dies, i. e. he shall die, offering to renew the fight upoi
finding himself severely hurt. Othello, in the very next speech
says : — ' He dies upon his motion.'
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 413
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
Hold, hold ! the general speaks to you ; hold, for
shame ! ,
Oth. Why, how now, ho ! from whence ariseth
this?
Are we turn'd Turks ; and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ?
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl :
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. —
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle
Prom her propriety. — What is the matter, masters ? —
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee,
Iago. I do not know; — friends all but now, even
now,
[n quarter 14, and in terms like bride and groom
Devesting them for bed: and then, but now,
As if some planet had unwitted men),
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
[n opposition bloody. I cannot speak
\ny beginning to this peevish odds ;
\nd 'would, in action glorious I had lost
These legs, that brought me to a part of it !
Oth, How comes it, Michael, you are thus for-
got15?
Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
14 i. e. on our station. ' This short note might have saved the
ong disquisitions of Ritson, Henley, and Malone, about the pre-
ise meaning of a word which, in the military language of the
•resent day at least, seems to have no very precise meaning,
^he meaning given above seems the leading signification, for the
•rincipal camp guard of a regiment is called the quarter guard ;
>ut a regiment in quarters has no snch guard. I wonder that
tfr, Steevens, who had been in the militia, did not exercise his
udgment on this passage.' — Pye.
,5 i. e. you have thus forgot yourself.
VOL. X. O O
414 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil ;
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure ; What's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion l6, for the name
Of a night brawler ? give me answer to it.
Mm. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;
Your officer, Iago, can inform you —
While I spare speech, which something now offend
me : —
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
By me that's said or done amiss this night ;
Unless self-charity17 be sometime a vice;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.
Oth. Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule ;
And passion, having my best judgment collied18,
Assays to lead the way : If I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on ;
And he that is approv'd 19 in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. — What ! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestick quarrel,
16 Throw away and squander your valuable character. Opini<
for reputation or character occurs in other places. See vol.
p. 242, note 3.
17 Care of one's self.
18 Collied is blackened, as -with smut or coal, and figurative
means here obscured, darkened. See vol. ii. p. 22G, note 11.
19 Convicted by proof.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 415
In night, and on the court of guard and safety 20 !
Tis monstrous21. — Iago, who began it?
Mon. If partially atiin'd 22, or leagu'd in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Iago. Touch me not so near :
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio ;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow, crying out for help ;
And Cassio following with determin'd sword23,
To execute upon him : Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ;
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest, by his clamour (as it so fell out),
The town might fall in fright : he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose ; and I return'd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath ; which, till to-night,
I ne'er might say before : when I came back
20 The old copies read : —
' In night, and on the court and guard of safety.'
Ylalone made the necessary transposition, which he justifies by
rrefragable proof; but Steevens obstinately opposed the einen-
lation, and retained the old mumpsimus in the text out of a spirit
}f contradiction !
21 Monstrous is here used as a trisyllable, as it is again in
Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 6, p. 279.
22 Affined is ' bound by proximity of relationship,' but here it
means * related by nearness of uffice.' In the first scene it is
ased in the first of these senses : —
' If I, in any just term, am affirid
To love the Moor.'
23 The old copy reads : —
' And Cassio following him with determin'd sword.'
The word him seems to have crept in from the compositor's eye
glancing on the word in the next line.
416 OTHELLO, ACT II.
(For this was brief) I found them close together,
At blow, and thrust ; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter can I not report : —
But men are men ; the best sometimes forget : —
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, —
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,-
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd,
From him that fled, some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.
Oth. I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio : — Cassio, I love thee;
But never more be officer of mine. —
Enter Desdemona, attended.
Look, if my gentle love be not rais'd up; —
I'll make thee an example.
Des. What's the matter, deai
Oth. All's well now, sweeting; Come away to be
Sir, for your hurts,
Myself will be your surgeon ; Lead him off24.
[To Montano, who is led oj
Iago, look with care about the town ;
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.-
Come, Desdemona ; 'tis the soldiers' life,
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
[Exeunt all but Iago and Cassk
Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas. Ay, past all surgery.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid !
Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O,
24 Malone thinks that the words — ' Lead him of!"' were ori;
nally a marginal stage direction, as it was common to exprc
them in imperative terms: — Play musick. — Ring the bell.
Lead him off,y &c.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 417
have lost my reputation ! I have lost the immortal
part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial. —
My reputation, Iago, my reputation.
Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you
had received some bodily wound ; there is more
offence in that, than in reputation. Reputation is
an idle and most false imposition ; oft got without
merit, and lost without deserving: You have lost
no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such
a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover
the general again: You are but now cast in his
mood25, a punishment more in policy than in malice;
even so as one would beat his ofTenceless dog, to
affright an imperious lion : sue to him again, and
he's yours.
Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to
deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so
drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and
speak parrot26? and squabble? swagger? swear?
and discourse fustian with one's own shadow ?- -O
thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to
be known by, let us call thee — devil !
Iago. What was he that you followed with your
sword ? What had he done to you ?
Cas. I know not.
Iago. Is it possible?
Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing
distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. — O,
that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to
steal away their brains ! that we should, with joy,
revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves
nto beasts!
25 Thrown off, dismissed in his anger.
26 i. e. talk idly, utter all you know. From Drunk, &c. to
shadoiv, inclusively, is wanting in the qnarto 1622.
o o 2
418 OTHELLO, ACT II.
Jngo. Why, but you are now well enough : Ilov
came you thus recovered?
Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness, t<
give place to the devil, wrath : one unperfectnes
shows me another, to make me frankly despise my
self.
Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler : .A
the time, the place, and the condition of this coun
try stands, I could heartily wish this had not be
fallen ; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your ow
good.
Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he sha
tell me, I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouth
as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. T
be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and pre
sently a beast ! O strange ! — Every inordinate cu
is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil.
Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familk
creature, if it be well used ; exclaim no more again:
it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think
love you.
Cas. I have well approved it, sir, — I drunk !
Iago. You, or any man living, may be drunk
some time, man. I'll tell you what you shall d
Our general's wife is now the general ; — I may sa
so in this respect, for that he hath devoted ar
given up himself to the contemplation, mark, ar
denotement27 of her parts and graces: — confe
yourself freely to her; importune her; she'll he
to put you in your place again ; she is of so fre
so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that si
holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more thi
she is requested ; This broken joint28 between yc
27 The old copies read — devotement, an error arising from
single letter being turned upside down. Theobald made t
correction.
28 Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads— this brawl.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 419
and her husband, entreat her to splinter; and, my
fortunes against any lay29 worth naming, this crack
of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
Cas. You advise me well.
Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and
honest kindness.
Cas. I think it freely ; and, betimes in the morn-
ing, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to un-
dertake for me : I am desperate of my fortunes, if
they check me here.
Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieute-
nant; I must to the watch.
Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit Cassio.
Iago. And what's he then, that says, — I play the
villain ?
When this advice is free 30, I give, and honest,
Probal to thinking, and (indeed) the course
To win the Moor again ? For, 'tis most easy
The inclining31 Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's fram'd as fruitful32
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, — were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, —
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function. How am I then a villain,
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course33,
Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell !
29 Bet or wager*
30 i. e. liberal. Such as honest openness or frank good will
would give. There may be such a contraction of the word pro-
bable as that in the next line, but it has not yet been met with
elsewhere. Churchyard has many abbreviations equally violent.
31 Inclining here signifies compliant.
32 Corresponding to benigna, a<p9ovn. Liberal, bountiful as
the elements, out of which all things were produced.
33 Parallel course for course level or even with his design.
420 OTHELLO, ACT II.
When devils will their blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows 3*,
As I do now : For while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence 35 into his ear, —
That she repeals36 him for her body's lust ;
And, by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch ;
And out of her own goodness make the net,
That shall enmesh them all. — How now, Roderigo rl
Enter Roderigo.
Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a
hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry.
My money is almost spent ; I have been to-night
exceedingly well cudgelled; and, I think, the issue
will be — I shall have so much experience for my
pains : and so, with no money at all, and a little
more wit, return to Venice.
Iago. How poor are they, that have not patience !—
What wound did ever heal, but by degrees ?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft :
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou, by that small hurt, hath cashier'd Cassio
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe 37 :
31 When devils mean to instigate men to commit the most atro
cious crimes, they prompt or tempt at first with heavenly shows
&c.
35 Pestilence for poison.
36 i. e. recalh him, from the Fr. rappeler.
37 The blossoming or fair appearance of things, to which Iago
alludes, is the removal of Cassio. As their plan had already
blossomed, so there was good ground for expecting that the fruit
of it would soon be ripe.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 421
Content thyself awhile. — By the mass38, 'tis morning ;
Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short. —
Retire thee ; go where thou art billeted :
Away, I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Rod.] Two things are
to be done, —
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ;
I'll set her on ;
Myself, the while, to draw39 the Moor apart,
And bring him jump40 when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife; Ay, that's the way ;
Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Before the Castle.
Enter Cassio and some Musicians.
Cas. Masters, play here, I will content your pains,
Something that's brief; and bid — good morrow,
general1. [Musick.
Enter Clown.
Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been
at Naples, that they speak i'the nose thus 2 ?
38 The folio reads — In troth, an alteration made in the play-
house copy by the interference of the master of the revels.
39 Some modern editions read — ' Myself the while will draw.'
But the old copies are undoubtedly right. An imperfect sen-
tence was intended. Iago is ruminating upon his plan.
40 i. e. just at the time. So in Hamlet : —
' Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour.'
1 It was usual for friends to serenade a new married couple
on the morning after the celebration of the marriage, or to greet
them with a morning song to bid them good morrow. See Romeo
and Juliet, Act iii. Sc. 5. Ritson's note about the waits is no-
thing to the purpose.
2 So in The Merchant of Venice :— ' The bagpipe sings i'the
422 OTHELLO, ACT III.
1 Mus. How, sir, how !
Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind instru-
ments ?
1 Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir.
Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail.
1 Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir ?
Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that
I know. But, masters, here's money for you ; and
the general so likes your musick, that he desires yoi
of all loves 3, to make no more noise with it.
1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not.
Clo. If you have any musick that may not be
heard, to't again : but, as they say, to hear musick
the general does not greatly care.
1 Mus. We have none such, sir.
Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for IT
away : Go ; vanish into air ; away.
• [Exeunt Musicians
Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend ; I heai
you.
Cas. Pr'ythee, keep up thy quillets4. There's i
poor piece of gold for thee : if the gentlewomai
that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her
there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour o
speech : Wilt thou do this ?
Clo. She is stirring, sir ; if she will stir hither,
shall seem to notify unto her. [Exit
Enter Iago.
Cas. Do, good my friend. — In happy time, Iago
Iago. Y ou have not been a-bed then ?
Cas. Why, no; the day had broke
nose.' Rabelais somewhere speaks of ' a blow over the nos
with a Naples cowl-staft'.' The allusion is obvious.
3 i. e. for love's sake. We have this adjuration again in Th<
Merry Wives of Windsor.
4 See vol. ii. p. 368, note 22, and Hamlet, Act v. Sc. i.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 423
Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
To send in to your wife : My suit to her
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.
Iago. I'll send her to you presently ;
And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free. [Exit.
Cas. I humbly thank you for't. I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest5.
Enter Emilia.
Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry
Por your displeasure6; but all will soon be well.
The general, and his wife, are talking of it;
And she speaks for you stoutly : The Moor replies,
That he, you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity ; and that, in wholesome wisdom,
He might not but refuse you : but, he protests, he
loves you ;
And needs no other suitor, but his likings,
To take the saf'st occasion by the front7,
To bring you in again.
Cas. Yet, I beseech you, —
5 In consequence of this line a doubt has been entertained
concerning the country of Iago. Cassio was undoubtedly a
Florentine, as appears by the first scene of the play, where he is
expressly called one. That Iago was a Venetian is proved by
a speech in the third scene of this act, and by what he says in
the fifth act, after having stabbed Roderigo : —
• Iago. Alas, my dear friend and countryman Roderigo !
' Gra. What, of Venice?
* Iago. Yes.'
All that Cassio means to say in the present passage is, I never
experienced more honesty and kindness even in one of my own
countrymen.
6 i. e. the displeasure you have incurred from Othello.
7 This line is wanting in the folio.
424 OTHELLO. ACT III.
If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.
Emil. 'Pray you, come in;
I will bestow you where you shall have time
To speak your bosom freely.
Cas. I am much bound to you8.
[Exeunt,
SCENE II. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
Oth. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
And, by him, do my duties to the state l :
That done, I will be walking on the works,
Repair there to me.
Iago. Well, my good lord, I'll do't
Oth. This fortification, gentlemen, — shall we seeYi
Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Before the Castle.
Entei- Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia.
Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Emil. Good madam, do ; I know, it grieves my
husband,
As if the case 2 were his.
Des. O, that's an honest fellow. — Do not doubt.
Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
8 This speech is omitted in the first quarto.
1 Thus the quarto IG22. Folio — • to the senate.'
2 Folio reads — ' As if the cause, were his.'
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 42i
Cas. Bounteous madam,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never any thing but your true servant.
Des. O, sir 3, 1 thank you : You do love my lord :
You have known him long ; and be you well assur'd,
He shall in strangeness stand no further off
Than in a politick distance.
Cas. Ay, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long4,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent, and my place supplied,
My general will forget my love and service.
Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here,
I give thee warrant of thy place : assure thee,
:If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article : my lord shall never rest ;
I'll watch him tame 5, and talk him out of patience ;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
I'll intermingle every thing he does
With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.
3 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads—' J hiow't, I thank
you.'
4 ' He may either of himself think it politick to keep me out
of office so long, or he may be satisfied with such slight reasons,
or so many accidents may make him think my readrafssion at
that time improper, that I may be quite forgotten.' — Johnson.
5 Hawks and other birds are tamed by keeping them from
sleep. To this Shakspeare alludes. So in Cartwright's Lady
Errant: —
' We'll keep you
As they do hawks, watching until you leave
Your wildness.'
And in Davenant's Just Italian : —
' They've watch'd my hardy violence so tame.'
VOL. X. P P
426 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Enter Othello, and I ago, at a distance.
Emil. Madam, here comes
My lord.
Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave.
Des. Why, stay
And hear me speak.
Cas. Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.
Des. Well, well,
Do your discretion. [Exit Cassio
Iago. Ha ! I like not that.
Oth. What dost thou say ?
Iago. Nothing, my lord : or if — I know not what
Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife
Iago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I canno
think it,
That he would steal away so guiltylike,
Seeing you coming.
Oth. I do believe 'twas he.
Des. How now, my lord ?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Oth. Who is't, you mean ?
Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord
If I have any grace, or power to move you,
His present reconciliation 6 take ;
For, if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning7,
I have no judgment in an honest face :
I pr'ythee call him back.
Oth. Went he hence now ?
6 i. e. ' take his present atonement,' or submission. The word.'
were formerly synonymous.
7 Cunning here signifies knowledge, the aucient sense of the
word.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 427
Des. Ay, sooth ; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his grief with me ;
I suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
OfA.Not now,sweet Desdemona ; some other time.
Des. But shall't be shortly ?
Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you.
Des. Shall't be to-night at supper?
Oth. No, not to-night.
Des. To-morrow dinner then ?
Oth. I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.
Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday
morn;
Or Tuesday noon, or night; or Wednesday morn ; —
I pray thee, name the time; but let it not
Exceed three days : in faith, he's penitent ;
And yet his trespass, in our common reason
(Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
Out of their best8), is not almost a fault
To incur a private check : When shall he come ?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering 9 on. What ! Michael
Cassio,
That came a wooing with you 10, and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part ; to have so much to do
To bring him in ! Trust me, I could do much, —
Oth. 'Pr'ythee, no more : let him come when he
will;
I will deny thee nothing.
8 The severity of military discipline must not spare the best
men of the army, when their punishment may afford a wholesome
example.
9 So hesitating, in such doubtful suspense. So in Lyly Eu-
phues, 1580 : — ' Neither stand in a mamering whether it be best
to depart or not.' The quarto 1622 reads — muttering.
10 See Acti. Sc.2, note 15.
428 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Des. Why, this is not a boon
Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm;
Or sue to you to do peculiar profit
To your own person : Nay, when I have a suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize u and difficulty,
And fearful to be granted.
Oth. I will deny thee nothing
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Des. Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord
Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona : I will come t
thee straight.
Des. Emilia, come : — Be it as your fancies teacl
you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exit with Emilia
Oth. Excellent wretch12! Perdition catch my soul
But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again 13*
11 i. e- of weight.
12 ' The meaning of the word wretch is not generally under
stood. It is now in some parts of England a term of the fondest am
softest tenderness. It expresses the utmost degree of amiahle
ness, joined with an idea which perhaps all tenderness includes, o
feebleness, softness, and want of protection. Othello, consider
ing Desdemona as excelling in beautj and virtue, soft and time
rous by her sex, and by her situation absolutely in his power
calls her Excellent wretch ! It may be expressed, ' Dear, harm
less, helpless excellence.' — Johnson. Sir W. Davenant, in hi
Cruel Brother, uses the word twice with the same meaning:—
' Excellent wretch! with a timorous modesty she stifleth up he
utterance.'
13 I think with M alone that Othello is meant to say, ' Ere J
cease to love thee, the world itself shall be reduced to its primi
tive chaos. So in Venus and Adonis : —
' For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And beauty dead, black Chaos comes aguin.'
Shakspeare's meaning is more fully expressed in The "Winter'*
Tale :—
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 429
Iago. My noble lord,
Oth. What dost thou say, Iago ?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my
lady,
Know of your love ?
Oth. He did, from first to last : Why dost thou ask ?
IagQ. But for a satisfaction of my thought ;
No further harm.
Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago ?
Iago. I did not think he had been acquainted
with her.
Oth. O, yes ; and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed?
Oth. Indeed ! ay, indeed : — Discern'st thou aught
in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago. Honest, my lord?
Oth. Ay, honest.
Iago. My lord, for aught I know.
Oth. What dost thou think?
Iago. Think, my lord?
Oth. Think, my lord!
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. — Thou dost mean some-
thing :
' It cannot fail but by
The violation of iny faith, — and then
Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together
And mar the seeds within !'
There is the same thought in Muretus, a Latin poet of the six-
teenth century : —
' Tune meo elabi possis de pectore, Lacci
Aut ego, dum vivam, non meminisse tui ?
Ante vel istius mundi compage soluta,
Tetras in antiquum sit reditura chaos.'
And in Bacbanan: —
* Cesset amor, pariter cessabunt foedera rerum ;
In chaos antiquum cuncta element a rnent.'
P P 2
430 OTHELLO, ACT 111.
1 heard thee say but now, — Thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife ; What did'st not like ?
And, when I told thee — he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit : If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
logo. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think, thou dost :
And, — for I know thou art full of love and honesty
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st then
breath, —
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
for such things, in a false disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom ; but, in a man that's just,
They are close denotements14, working from the heart
That passion cannot rule.
Iayo. For Michael Cassio, —
I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.
Oth. I think so too.
Iago. Men should be what they seem :
Or, those that be not, 'would, they might seem none 15 !
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Iago. Why then, I think Cassio's an honest man
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this :
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
14 Thus the earliest quarto. The first folio reads — ' clos<
dilations.' Which Johnson says was intended for ' cold dela
tions,' i. e. occult and secret accusations, working involuntary fron
the heart. The second folic reads — ' cold dilations,' which War
burton explains ' cold keeping back a secret,' which men o
phlegmatic constitutions, whose arts are not swayed or governec
by their passions, we find can do : while more sanguine temper.*
reveal themselves at once, and without reserve.' Upton say>
dilations comes from the Latin dilationes, delayings, pauses.
15 I believe the meaning is, ' would they might no longer seen
or bear the shape of men.' — Johnson.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 431
As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.
Iago. Good my lord, pardon me ;
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
1 am not bound to that all slaves are free to 16.
Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and
false, —
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not17 ? who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets 18, and law-days, and in session sit
With meditations lawful?
Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
Iago. I do beseech you, —
Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses : and, oft, my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not, — I entreat you then,
16 'lam not bound to do that which even slaves are not bound
to do.' So in Cymbeline: —
' O, Pisanio,
Every good servant does not all commands,
No bond but to do just ones.'
•7 * No perfection is so absolute
That some impurity doth not pollute.'
Rape of Lucrece.
18 ' Who has so virtuous a breast that some impure conceptions
and uncharitable surmises will not sometimes enter into it ; hold
a session there, as in a regular court, and " bench by the side" of
authorised and lawful thoughts.' In the poet's thirtieth sonnet
we find the same imagery: —
' When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughts
I summon up remembrance of things past.'
A leet is also called a law day. ' This court, in whose manor
soever kept, was accounted the king's court, and commonly held
every half year,' it was a meeting of the hundred ' to certify the
king of the good manners and government of the inhabitants,'
&c.
432 OTHELLO, ACT III.
From one that so imperfectly conjects19,
You'd take no notice ? nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.
Oth. What dost thou mean 1
Iago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my
lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls :
Who steals my purse, steals trash 20 ; 'tis something.
nothing ;
Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thou-
sands21;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Oth. Ha!
Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth make 22
19 i. e. conjectures. Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads : —
• ■ and of my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not, that your wisdom
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice.'
20 The sacred writings were perhaps in the poet's thoughts :
• A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving
favour than silver and gold.' Proverbs, xxii. 1.
21 ' Nunc ager Umbreni sub nomine nuper Ofelli
Dictus, erit nulli proprius ; sed cedet in usum
Nunc mihi, nunc alii.' Horat. Sat. lib. ii. 2.
So in Camden's Remaines, 1605, p. 107 :-—
• Nunc mea, mox hujus, set postea nescio cujus.'
22 The old copy reads mock. The emendation is Hanmer's.
Steevens attempted to justify the old reading ; but his argu-
ments are not convincing ; and the slight alteration of the text
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 433
The meat it feeds on : That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects, yet strongly loves !
Oth. O misery!
Iago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough ;
But riches, fineless23, is as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor : —
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy !
Oth. Why! why is this?
Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions ? No : to be once in doubt,
Is — once to be resolv'd : Exchange me for a goat*,
renders it so much more clear, elegant, and poetical, and has
been so well defended by Malone and others, that I have not
hesitated to adopt it. The following passages have been ad-
duced in confirmation of Hanmer's reading. At the end of the
third Act Desdemona remarks on Othello's jealousy : —
\ Alas the day ! I never gave him cause.'
To which Emilia replies : —
' But jealous fools will not be answer'd so,
They are not jealous ever for the cause,
But jealous, for they are jealous : 'tis a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.'
And in Daniel's Rosamond, 1592 ; a poem which Shakspeare
has more than once imitated in Romeo and Juliet : —
* O Jealousy .
Feeding upon suspect that doth renew thee,
Happy were lovers, if they never knew thee.'
The same idea occurs in Massinger's Picture, where Matthias,
speaking of the groundless jealousy he entertained of Sophia's
possible inconstancy, says : —
' but why should I nourish
A fury here, and with imagin' d food,
Holding no real ground on which to raise
A building of suspicion she was ever,
Or can be false.'
23 i. e. endless, unbounded. Warburton observes that this is
finely expressed — winter producing no fruits.
434 OTHELLO, ACT 111.
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate24 and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference25. Tis not to make m
jealous,
To say — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well ;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous26:
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt ;
For she had eyes, and chose me : No, Iago ;
I'll see, before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this, —
Away at once with love, or jealousy.
Iago. I am glad of this, for now I shall have reaso
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit : therefore, as I am bound,
24 No instance of this word has elsewhere occurred. It aj
pears to me to he intended to convey the meaning of whisperec
or made out of breath. Sufflation is interpreted by Phillips, I
puffing up, a making to swell with blowing.' In Plautus w
have, ' Sufflavit nescio quid uxore ;' which Cooper render*
' He hath ichispered somewhat in his wives eare whatsoever i
be.' He also translates • Rumoris nescio quid afflaverat, a cei
tain brute or rumor come to my hearing.' Though I do nc
agree with the following explanation, I think it right to lay i
before the reader : — ' It seems to me (says Mr. Todd), that al
the critics have overlooked the meaning of the passage. ExsmJ
flicate may be traced to the low Latin exsufflare, to spit dow
upon, an ancient form of exorcising ; and, figuratively, to spi
out in abhorrence or contempt. See Du Cange, in v. exsufflart
Exsufflicaie may thus signify contemptible : and Othello may b
supposed to mean, that he would not change the noble designs
that then employed his thoughts, for contemptible and despicabl
surmises.' — Johnson's Diet, in v. JExsuffolate.
25 i. e. such as you have mentioned in describing the torment
of jealousy.
26 A passage in All's Well that Ends Well is perhaps the bes
comment on the sentiments of Othello : — ' I have those goo<
hopes of her education promises : his disposition she inherits
which makes fair gifts fairer.' Gratior e pulchro veniens et cor
pore virtus.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 435
Receive it from me : — I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife ; observe her well with Cassio ;
VYear you eye — thus, not jealous, nor secure:
[ would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty 27, be abus'd ; look to't :
[ know our country disposition well ;
[n Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands; their best con-
science
Is — not to leave undone, but keep unknown28.
Oth. Dost thou say so ?
Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you ;
And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks,
She lov'd them most.
Oth. And so she did.
Iago. Why, go to, then ;
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak29, —
He thought, 'twas witchcraft : — But I am much to
blame ;
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
For too much loving you.
27 Self bounty for inherent generosity.
28 This and the following argument of Iago ought to be deeply
mpressed on every reader. Deceit and falsehood, whatever
conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are in the
sum of life obstacles to happiness. Those who profit by the
cheat, distrust the deceiver, and the act by which kindness is
sought puts an end to confidence. — The same objection may be
made with a lower degree of strength against the imprudent
generosity of disproportionate marriages. When the first heat
){ passion is over, it is easily succeeded by suspicion, that the
>ame violence of inclination, which caused one irregularity, may
stimulate to another; and those who have shown that their pas-
sions are too powerful for their prudence will, with very slight
ippearances against them, be censured, as not very likely to
estrain them by their virtue. — Johnson.
29 An expression from falconry : to seel a hawk is to sew up
lis evelids. Close as oak means as close, as the grain of oak.
436 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Oth. I am bound to thee for ever
Iago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.
Iago. Trust me, I fear it has
I hope, you will consider, what is spoke
Comes from my love; — But, I do see you an
mov'd: —
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
To grosser issues 30, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.
Oth. I will not.
Iago. Should you do so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success 31
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worth;
friend : —
My lord, I see you are mov'd.
Oth. No, not much mov'd :-
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
Iago. Long live she so! and long live you t<
think so !
Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself, —
Iago. Ay, there's the point :— As, — to be boI»
with you, —
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree;
Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends :
Foh! one may smell, in such, a will32 most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. —
But pardon me; I do not, in position,
30 Issues for conclusions.
31 Success here means consequence or event; as successo,
Italian. So in Sidney's Arcadia, p. 39, ed. 1613: — ' Straig!
ray heart misgave me some evil success!' And in The Palace ■
Pleasure : — ' Fearing lest their case would sort to some pitifi
mccesse.'
i2 Will for inclination or desire. A rank will is a lustful to
nation.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 4o7
Distinctly speak of her: though I may^fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And (happily) repent.
Oth. Farewell, farewell :
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more ;
Set on thy wife to observe: Leave me, Iago.
Iago. My lord, I take my leave. [Going.
Oth. Why did I marry ? — This honest creature,
doubtless,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago. My lord, I would, I might entreat your
honour
To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time :
And though it be fit that Cassio have his place
Tor, sure, he fills it up with great ability),
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him and his means 33 :
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment M
With any strong or vehement importunity ;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears
As worthy cause I have, to fear — I am),
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
Oth. Fear not my government35.
Iago. I once more take my leave. [Exit.
Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit36,
3f human dealings : If I do prove her haggard37,
33 ' You shall discover whether he thinks his best means, his
nost powerful interest, is by the solicitation of your lady.'
34 i. e. press hard his readmission to his pay and office. En-
ertainment was the military term for the admission of soldiers.
35 Do not distrust my ability to contain my passion.
38 Learned for experienced. The construction is, ' He knows
vith an experienced spirit all qualities of human dealings.'
37 Haggard is wild, and therefore libertine. A haggard falcon
VOL. X. Q Q
438 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Though that her jesses m were my dear heart-strings.
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ;
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have39: — Or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years ; — yet that's not much; —
She's gone ; I am abus'd ; and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
was a wild hawk that had preyed for herself long before six
was taken ; sometimes also called a ramage falcon. From a pas
sage in The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona, 1612, it ap
pears that Itaggard was a term of reproach, sometimes applie<
to a wanton: — ' Is this your perch, you haggard? fly to th>
stews.' So in Shakerley Marmion's Holland's Leaguer, 1G33 :
' Before these courtiers lick their lips at her,
I'll trust a wanton haggard in the wind.'
Again: —
' For she is ticklish as any haggard,
And quickly lost.'
38 Jesses are short straps of leather tied about the foot of I
hawk, by which she is held on the fist. — ' The falconers alwaj
let fly the hawk against the wind ; if she flies with the wind be
hind her, she seldom returns. If therefore a hawk was for an
reason to be dismissed, she was let down the wind, and from tlia
time shifted for herself and preyed at fortune.' This was toll
to Dr. Johnson by Mr. Clark. So in the Spanish Gipsie, 1653
* That young lannerd (i. e. hawk)
Whom you have such a mjind to ; if you can whistle her
To come to fist, make trial, play the young falconer.'
Again in Bonduca, by Beaumont and Fletcher : —
• he that basely
Whistled his honour off to the wind,' &c.
And in Dryden's Annus Mirabilis : —
' Have you not seen, when ifhistled from the fist,
Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd,
And with her eagerness the quarry miss'd,
Straight flies at cheek, and clips it doivn the wind.'
39 Men of intrigue. Chambering and wantonness are mei
(toned together in the Scriptures, fie KOITAIS is rendere
not in chambering in the common version.
S€. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 430
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones ;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base ;
Tis destiny unshunnable, like death ;
Even then this forked40 plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken 41. Desdemona comes :
Enter Desdemona and Emilia.
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! —
I'll not believe it.
Des. How now, my dear Othello ?
Your dinner, and the generous4- islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.
Des. Why is your speech so faint? are you not
well?
Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.
Des. 'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away
again :
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
Oth. Your napkin 43 is too little ;
[He puts the Handkerchief from him, and it drops.
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.
40 One of Sir John Harington's Epigrams will illustrate this
forked plague : —
' Actaeon guiltless unawares espying
Naked Diana bathing in ber bowre
Was plagued with hornes ; his dogs did him devoure ;
Wherefore take heed, ye that are curious, prying,
With some such forked plague you be not smitten,
And in your foreheads see your faults be written.'
41 i. e. when we begin to live.
42 ' The generous islanders' are the islanders of rank, distinc-
tion : generosi, Lat. See vol. ii. p. 92, note 4. This explanation
however (as Steevens observes) may be too particular ; for
generous also signified valiant, of a brave spirit.
43 In the north of England this term for a handkerchief is still
used. The word occurs in Macbeth, Julius Caesar, and other of
these plays.
440 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
[Exeunt Oth. and Des
Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin ;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor :
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it: but she so loves the token
(For he conjur'd her, she would ever keep it),
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out44,
And give 't Iago :
What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I;
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.
Enter Iago.
Iago. How now ! what do you here alone ?
Emil. Do not you chide ; I have a thing for you.
Iago. A thing for me? — it is a common thing.
Emil. Ha!
Iago. To have a foolish wife.
44 That is, copied. Her first thoughts are to have a copy made
of it for her hushand, and restore the original to Desdemona :
but the sudden coming in of Iago, in a surly humour, makes her
alter her resolution, to please him. The same phrase afterwards
occurs between Cassio and Bianca, in Sc. iv.
* This scheme of getting the work of this valued handerchief
copied, and restoring the original to Desdemona, was probably
introduced by the poet to render Emilia less unamiable. It is
remarkable that when she perceives Othello's fury on the loss
of this token, though she is represented as affectionate to her
mistress, she never attempts to relieve her from her distress ;
which she might easily have done by demanding the handkerchief
from her husband, or divulging the story if he refused to restore
it. But this would not have served the plot. — In Cinthio's
Novel, while the artless Desdemona is caressing the child of
Othello's ancient, the villain steals the handkerchief which hung
at her girdle without the knowledge of his wife.' — Malone.
1 This observation is very just ; it is particularly striking in
the representation ; neither is the concluding apology to be ad-
mitted, as there is no reason why Emilia should be present wheo
Othello demands the handkerchief.' — Pye.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 44 L
Emil. O, is that all ? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?
Iago. What handkerchief?
Emil. What handkerchief?
Why that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago. Hast stolen it from her?
Emil. No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence;
And, to the advantage45, I, being here, took't up.
Look, here it is.
Iago. A good wench ; give it me.
Emil. What will you do with it, that you have
been so earnest
To have me filch it?
Iago. Why, what's that to you ?
[Snatching it.
Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give it me again : Poor lady ! she'll run mad,
When she shall lack it.
Iago. Be not you known oft46; I have use for it.
Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it: Trifles, light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison :
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,
Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ;
45 That is, I being opportunely here, took it up.
46 ' Seem as if you knew nothing of the matter.' The folio
reads, ' Be not acknown on't.' — This word occurs in the Life of
Ariosto, subjoined to Sir John Harington's translation of the
Orlando Furioso, p. 418, ed. 1607 : — ' Some say he was married
to her privilie, but durst not be acknowne of it.' Again in Cor-
nelia, a tragedy, by Thomas Kyd, 1594 : —
1 Our friend's misfortune doth increase our own.
Cic. But ours of others will not be acknown.'
Q Q2
442 OTHELLO, ACT III.
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so 47 : —
Enter Othello.
Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandra-
gora48,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst49 yesterday.
Oth. Ha! ha! false to me?
Tome?
Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that.
Oth. Avaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the
rack : —
I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know't a little.
Iago. How now, my lord ?
Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours o\
lust50?
47 Iago first ruminates on the qualities of the passion whicl
he is labouring to excite ; and then proceeds to comment on its
effects. * Jealousy (says he), with the smallest operation on tin
blood, flames out with all the violence of sulphur,' &c.
1 I did say so ;
Look where he comes!'
i. e. I knew the least touch of such a passion would not permi
the Moor a moment of repose : — I have just said that jealousy is
a restless commotion of the mind : and look where Othello ap
proaches, to confirm the, propriety and justice of my observation
Steevens.
48 The mandrake has a soporifick quality, and the ancient:
used it when they wanted an opiate of the most powerful kind
See Antony and Cleopatra, Act i. Sc. 6.
49 i. e. possessedst.
50 A similar passage to this, and what follows it, is found ii
The Witch, by Middleton. In the same drama there is also £
scene between Francisca and her brother Antonio, when she first
excites his jealousy, which has several circumstances in comraoi
with the dialogue which passes between Iago and Othello oi
the same subject. It is more than probable that Middleton was
the imitator. See vol. iv. p. 209.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 443
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me :
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips :
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all.
Jago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
'Pioneers 51 and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known : O now, for ever,
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content !
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell52!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
51 The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degraded
soldiers. According to the old ordinances of war, a soldier who
lost any part of his arras by negligence or play, was to be dis-
missed with punishment, or to be made ' some abject pioneer.'
52 There are some points of resemblance between this speech
and the following lines in a poem of George Peele's ' A Fare-
well to the Famous and Fortunate Generals of our English
Forces, Sir John Norris and Sir Francis Drake, 1589 :—
• Change love for armes; gyrt to your blades, my boyes ;
Your rests and muskets take, take helme and targe,
And let god Mars his trumpet make you mirth,
The roaring cannon, and the brazen trumpe,
The angry-sounding drum, the whistling fife,
The shriekes of men, the princelie courser's ney.y
Malone thought that Shakspeare might have received the hint
for this speech from another passage in the old drama of Comon
Conditions, 1576. To which Steevens replies, I know not why
we should suppose that Shakspeare borrowed so common a repe-
tition as these diversified farewells from any preceding drama.
A string of adieus is perhaps the most tempting of all repetitions,
because it serves to introduce a train of imagery, as well as to
solemnify a speech or composition. Wolsey, like Othello, in-
dulges himself in many farewells ; and the
' Valete, aprica montium cacumina !
Valete, opaca vallium cubilia!' &c.
are common to poets of different ages and countries. In Caven-
dish's Metrical Visions there is a similar valedictory address
to a variety of objects and circumstances. And Steevens in-
stances another in which sixteen succeeding verses begin with
the word farewell.
414 OTHELLO, ACT 111.
The spirit- stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife53,
The royal banner ; and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war54!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal JLove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone !
Iago. Is it possible ! — My lord,
Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love
whore;
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;
[Taking him by the Throat
53 In mentioning the fife joined to the drum, Shakspeare, a
usual, paints from life ; those instruments, accompanying eac
other, being used in his age by the English soldiery. The fifi
however, as a martial instrument, was afterwards entirely dii
continued among oar troops for many years ; but at lengt
revived in the war before the last by the British guards unde
order of the duke of Cumberland, when they were encampe
before Maestricht in 1747, and thence soon adopted into othe
English regiments of infantry. They ,took it from the allie
with whom they served. This instrument accompanying th
drum is of considerable antiquity in the European armies, pai
ticularly the German. In a curious picture, painted 1525, i
the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, representing the siege c
Pavia by the French king, we see fifes and drums. In the diar
of King Henry's siege of Bolloigne, 1544, (Rymer, Foed. x\
p. 53), mention is made of drommes and viffleurs marching at th
head of the king's army. The drum and fife were also inuci
used at shows and processions. At a stately masque on Shrov<
Tuesday, 1510, in which Henry VIII. was an actor, Holinshei
mentions the entry of ' a drum and fife, apparelled in whit
damaske and grene bonnettes;" and at the Inner Temple cele
bration of Christmas (described by Leigh in his Accidence o
Armory, 1576), • We entered the prince his hall, where anoi
we heard the noise of drum and fife.' It will hardly be necessarj
to state that this note is abridged from one by Thomas Warton
whose passion for the spirit-stirring instruments to which i
relates is upon record. The remainder of his note is an attemp
to derive the word whiffler from viffleur, a fifer; but it is pro
bable that it had another origin. See vol. v. p. 511, note 2.
54 Davenant in his Al bovine, and Fletcher in his Prophetess
have each of them imitated this passage of Othello.
SC. 111. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 445
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul55,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
Iago. Is it come to this ?
Oth. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on : or, woe upon thy life !
Iago. My noble lord,
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more : abandon all remorse56;
On horror's head horrors accumulate :
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd,
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.
Iago. O grace ! O heaven, defend me !
Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense? —
&od be wi' you ; take mine office. — O wretched fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty, a vice ! —
0 monstrous world! Take note, take note, O
world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe. —
[ thank you for this profit; and, from hence,
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.
Oth. Nay, stay : — Thou should'st be honest.
Iago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.
Oth. By the world,
1 think my wife be honest, and think she is not ;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
55 The quarto of 1622 reads ' man's eternal soul.' Perhaps
in opposition was designed between man and dog.
56 i. e. all tenderness of nature, all pity ; the sense in which
remorse is most frequently used by Shakspeare.
440 OTHELLO, ACT III.
As mine own face 57. — If there be cords, or knives
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure it58. — 'Would, I were satisfied!
Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion :
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied ?
Oth. Would? nay, I will.
Iago. And may : but, how ? how satisfied, my lord
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on ?
Behold her tupp'd ?
Oth. Death and damnation ! O !
Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: Damn them then
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster,
More than their own ! What then ? how then?
What shall I say ? Where's satisfaction ?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances, —
Which lead directly to the door of truth, —
Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
Oth. Give me a living59 reason she's disloyal.
Iago. I do not like the office :
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, —
I
57 A similar image is found in Marlowe's Lust's Dominioi
where the Moor says : —
* Cardinal, this disgrace
Shall dye thy soul as inky as my face.'
58 So in Pericles : —
• If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.'
59 A living reason is a reason founded on fact and experienr
not on surmise and conjecture ; a reason that convinces the u
derstanding as perfectly as if the fact were exhibited to the li)
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 447
Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love, —
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately ;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep,
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs ;
One of this kind is Cassio :
In sleep I heard him say, — Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves !
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry, — 0, sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips : then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
Cried, — Cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor!
Oth. O monstrous ! monstrous !
Iago. Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion60;
Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream61.
Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs,
That do demonstrate thinly.
Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces.
Iago. Nay, but be wise : yet we see nothing done 62 ;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, —
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand ?
Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift.
Iago. I know not that : but such a handkerchief
(I am sure it was your wife's), did I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
60 Some foregone conclusion is some former experience. Con-
clusion is used for experiment or trial in several other places of
these plays.
61 The old quarto gives this line to Iago, as well as the two
which follow ; in the folio it is given to Othello.
62 Iago says, 'Yet we see nothing done;' as an oblique and
secret mock of what Othello had before said, — Give me the ocu-
lar proof.
448 OTHELLO, , ACT III.
Oth. If it be that,-
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge !
Now do I see 'tis true63. — Look here, Iago;
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven64:
"Tis gone. —
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow 65 cell !
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and hearted throne66
To tyrannous hate ! swell, bosom, with thy fraught ^ :
For 'tis of aspicks' tongues !
Iago. Pray, be content.
63 The quarto reads ' Now do I see 'tis tune.'
64 So in Marlowe's Lust's Dominion : —
1 Are these your fears ? thus blow them into air.1
This was perhaps caught from Horace : —
' Tradain protervis in mare Creticum
Portare ventis.'
65 Hollow, which has been stigmatized by Warburton as s
poor unmeaning epithet, gives the idea of what Milton calls —
1 the void profound
Of unessential night.'
Or the inane profundum of Lucretius. It is used indeed in Mil-
ton himself. Paradise Lost, b. i. v. 314 : —
'• He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep
Of hell resounded.'
And in book i. : —
* A shout that tore helVs concave.'
Jasper Heywood, in his translation of Seneca's Thyestes, 1560.
had long before used the phrase : —
' Where most prodigious ugly things the hollov) hell
doth hide.'
And Arthur Hall, in his translation of Homer's eighth Iliad: —
' Into the hollow dreadful hole which Tartare men do call.'
66 The heart on which thou wast enthroned. So in Twelfth
Night: —
' It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is thron'd.'
See Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Sc. 1, ah init.
67 i. e. swell, because the fraught thou art charged with is oi
poison.
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 449
Oth. O, blood, Iago, blood !
Iago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may
change.
Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontick sea68,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontick, and the Hellespont;
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable ^ and wide revenge
Swallow them up. — Now, by yond' marble hea-
ven
To
In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.
I here engage my words.
Iago. Do not rise yet. —
[Kneels.
Witness, you ever-burning lights above !
You elements that clip us round about !
Witness, that here Iago doth give up
68 From the word Like to marble heaven, inclusively, is not
found in the quarto 1622. Pope thinks that it would he better
omitted, as an unnatural excursion in this place. Shakspeare
probably derived his knowledge upon this subject from the
second book and ninety-seventh chapter of Pliny's Natural
History, 1601: — * And the sea Pontus evermore floweth and
runneth out into Propontis ; but the sea never retireth backe
againe within Pontus.' Mr. Edwards conceived this simile
might allude to Sir Philip Sidney's device, whose impress Cam-
den, in his Remains, says, was the Caspian sea, with this motto,
Sine refiuxu.
69 Capable seems to be here used for capacious, comprehensive.
Nashe, in his Pierce Pennilesse, 1592, employs the word in the
same manner: — 'Then belike, quoth I, you make this word,
Daemon, a capable name, of gods, of men, of devils.'
70 This expression occurs in Soliman and Perseda, 1599: —
• Now by the marble face of the welkin,' &c.
So in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 1602 : —
' And pleas'd the marble heavens.'
vol. x. R R
450 OTHELLO, ACT III.
The execution71 of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service ! let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse72,
What bloody work soever.
Oth. I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't :
Within these three days let me hear thee say,
That Cassio's not alive.
Iago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done, at your request :
But let her live.
Oth. Damn her, lewd minx ; O, damn her !
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
Iago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The same.
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown.
Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant
Cassio lies ?
Clo. I dare not say, he lies any where.
Des. Why, man?
Clo. He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier
lies, is stabbing.
Des. Go to ; Where lodges he ?
71 The first quarto reads excellency. By execution Shakspeare
meant employment or exercise. So in Love's Labour's Lost: —
• Full of comparisons and wounding flouts
Which you on all estates will execute.'
And in Troilus and Cressida: —
' In fellest manner execute your arms.'
72 Shakspeare always uses remorse for pity or commiseration.
1 Let him command whatever bloody business, and in me it shall be
an act not of cruelty but of pity or commiseration to obey him.
The quarto reads, ' What bloody business ever.'
SC. IV., THE MOOR OF VENICE. 451
Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you
where I lie K
Des. Can any thing be made of this ?
Clo. I know not where he lodges ; and for me to
devise a lodging, and say — he lies here, or he lies
there, were to lie in my own throat.
Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by
report ?
Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is,
make questions, and by them answer2.
Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I
have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope, all
will be well.
Clo. To do this, is within the compass of man's
wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
[Exit.
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief,
Emilia ?
Emil. I know not, madam.
Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of cruzadoes 3. And, but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
1 This and the following speech are wanting in the first qnarto.
2 i. e. and hy them, when answered, form my own answer to
you. The quaintness of the answer is in character.
3 Cruzadoes were not current, as it should seem, at Venice,
though they certainly were in England, in the time of Shak-
speare ; who has here again departed from the strict propriety
of national costume. It appears from Rider's Dictionary that
there were three sorts of cruzadoes : one with a long cross, one
with a short cross, and the great cruzado of Portugal. They
were of gold, and weighed from two pennyweights six grains,
to two pennyweights sixteen grains, and differed in value from
six shillings and eightpence to nine shillings. The sovereigns
who struck these coins were Emanuel and his son John of Por-
tugal. Mr. Douce has given the figure of them in his Illustra-
tions of Shakspeare.
452 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Emil. Is he not jealous?
Des. Who, he ? I think, the sun, where he was
born,
Drew all such humours from him.
Emil. Look, where he comes.
Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio
Be call'd to him. — How is't with you, my lord?
Enter Othello.
Oth. Well, my good lady. — [Aside.'] O, hard-
ness to dissemble ! —
How do you, Desdemona?
Des. Well, my good lord.
Oth. Give me your hand : This hand is moist, my
lady.
Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart; —
Hot, hot, and moist; This hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout;
For here's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.
Des. You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
Oth. A liberal hand : The hearts of old, gave hands ;
But our new heraldry is — hands, not hearts4.
4 Warbnrton thought that this was a satirical allusion to the
new order of baronets, created by James I. in 1611. Sir Wil-
liam Blackstone supports him in this supposition, and has pointed
out a similar allusion in The Merry Wives of Windsor. See
vol. i. p. 208, note 2. But if the play was written in 1602, as
Malone presumes, this is a sufficient refutation. Warburton has
a further conceit, that by the word hearts the poet meant to
allude to the gallantry of the reign of Elizabeth, in which men
distinguished themselves by their steel; and that by hands those
courtiers were pointed at, who served her inglorious successor
by their gold. This is too fanciful to require an answer. -
SC. IV. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 453
Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now your
promise.
Oth. What promise, chuck?
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with
you.
Oth. I have a salt and sullen5 rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Des. Here, my lord.
Oth. That which I gave you.
Des. I have it not about me.
Oth. Not?
Des. No, indeed, my lord.
Oth. That is a fault :
That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give ;
Steevens observes, that ' the absurdity of making Othello so
familiar with British heraldry, the utter want of consistency as
well as policy in any sneer of Shakspeare at the badge of honours
instituted by a prince whom he was solicitous to flatter, and at
whose court this very piece was acted in 1613, are strong argu-
ments against the propriety of Warburton's explanation.'
In various parts of our poet's works he has alluded to the
custom of plighting troth by the union of hands. So in The
Tempest : —
' Mir. My husband then ?
Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.
Mir. And mine, with my heart in it.'
' The hearts of old (says Othello), dictated the union of hands,
which formerly were joined with the hearts of the parties in
them; but in our modern marriages hands alone are united,
without hearts.'
There is a passage in the Essaj'S of Sir William Cornwallis
the younger, 1601, which may have suggested to Shakspeare
the mention of this new heraldry: — ' We of these later times,
full of a nice curiositie, mislike all the performances of our fore-
fathers; we say they were honest plaine men, but they want the
capering wits of this ripe age. They had ivont to give their hands
and hearts together, but we think it a finer grace to looke asquint,
our hand looking one way and our heart another.'
5 The folio reads ' sorry.' Rider explains sidlen by acerbus,
Latin.
R R 2
454 OTHELLO, ACT III.
She was a charmer6, and could almost read
The thoughts of people: she told her, while she
kept it,
'T would make her amiable, and subdue my father
Entirely to her love ; but if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies : She, dying, gave it me ;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so : and take heed oft,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose or give't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.
Des. Ts it possible ?
Oth. 'Tis true : there's magick in the web of it :
A sibyl , that had number'd in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,
In her prophetick fury sew'd the work ;
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy7, which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts8.
Des. Indeed! is'ttrue?
Oth. Most veritable ; therefore look to't well.
s A charmer, for an enchanter, is of common occurrence in the
Psalms. So in Perkins's Discourse on Witchcraft, 1610 : —
' By witches we understand not only those which kill and tor-
ment, but all charmers, jugglers, all wizards, commonly called
wise men and wise women,' &c.
7 The balsamic liquor running from mummies was formerly
celebrated for its anti-epileptick -virtues. We are now wise
enough to know that the qualities ascribed to it are all ima-
ginary; yet this fanciful medicine held a place in the druggists'
shops till lately. It was much coveted by painters, as a trans-
parent brown colour that threw a warmth into the shadows of a
picture.
8 The quarto reads ' with the skilful conserves,' &c. So in
The Microcosmos of John Davies of Hereford, 4to. 1605 : —
' Mummy made of the mere hart of love.'
SC. IV. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 455
Des. Then 'would to heaven, that I had never
seen it.
Oth. Ha! wherefore?
Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash ?
Oth. Is'tlost? is'tgone? speak, is it out of the way ?
Des. Heaven bless us !
Oth. Say you?
Des. It is not lost; But what an if it were?
Oth. Ha!
Des. I say it is not lost.
Oth. Fetch't, let me see it.
Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now;
This is a trick, to put me from my suit ;
I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again.
Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind mis-
gives.
Des. Come, come;
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Oth. The handkerchief,
Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio9*
Oth. The handkerchief,
Des. A man that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortune on your love;
Shar'd dangers with you;
Oth. The handkerchief,
Des. In sooth,
You are to blame.
Oth. Away! [Exit Othello.
Emil. » Is not this man jealous?
Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Emil. Tis not a year or two shows us a man :
9 This and the following short speech are omitted in all the
ancient editions but the first quarto. The singular phraseology,
talk mc of Cassio,' is illustrated in vol. iii. p. o03, note 1.
456 OTHELLO, ACT III.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
They belch us. Look you ! Cassio, and ray husband
Enter Iago and Cassio.
Iago. There's is no other way ; 'tis she must do't
And, lo, the happiness ! go, and importune her.
Des. How now, good Cassio? what's the new>
with you ?
Cas. Madam, my former suit : I do beseech you
That, by your virtuous means, I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love,
Whom I, with all the duty 10 of my heart,
Entirely honour ; I would not be delay'd :
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That neither service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransome me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit11;
So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
And shut myself up12 in some other course,
To fortune's alms.
10 The folio reads ' the office of my heart:' the words were
however, synonymous. Thus Baret : — ' Dutie, office, dutie o
behaviour in honestie and reason : officium.' So in Antony am
Cleopatra : —
1 his goodly eyes — now turn
The office and devotion of their view,' &c.
11 ' Si nequeo placidas affari Caesaris aures,
Saltern aliquis veniat, qui mihi dicat, abi.'
12 Here again is a strange discordance of opinion in the com
mentators on the meaning of shut myself up, which evidently
signifies no more than ' confine myself.' One of the old quarto;
reading ' shoot myself up,' by mistake, Mason absurdly contend.'
for that reading. — * To fortune's alms ' means waiting patiently
for whatever bounty fortune, or chance, may bestow upon me
We have the same uncommon phrase in King Lear: —
' Let your study
Be to content 3'our lord, who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms.'
SC. IV. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 457
Des. Alas ! thrice gentle Cassio,
My advocation is not now in tune ;
My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him,
Were he in favour13, as in humour, alter'd.
So help me, every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you all my best;
And stood within the blank u of his displeasure,
For my free speech ! You must a while be patient:
What I can do, I will ; and more I will,
Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you.
Jago. Is my lord angry?
Emil. He went hence but now,
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.
Iago. Can he be angry ? I have seen the cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air;
And, like the devil, from his very arm
PufFd his own brother; — And can he be angry?
Something of moment, then : I will go meet him ;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Des. I pr'ythee, do so. — Something, sure, of
state, — [Exit Iago.
Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice 15>,
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, — ■
Hath puddled his clear spirit : and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so:
For let our finger ache, and it indues l6
13 i. e. in countenance. See Act i. Sc. 3, note 53.
14 To stand within the blank is to stand in the direct range or
in the immediate course; to have his displeasure directed toward
her. See vol. iv. p. 38, note 1.
15 Some undeveloped treason.
16 I have elsewhere observed that to indue was used formerly
where we now use to imbue. Ophelia, in Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 7,
is said to be ' indued unto that element.' See p. 314, ante. — ■
Malone has well explained the meaning of the passage: — ' Let
bat our finger ache, and this sensation so gets possession of, and
458 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense
Of pain: Nay, we must think, men are not gods;
Nor of them look for such observances
As fit the bridal17. — Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was (unhandsome warrior18 as I am),
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul ;
But now I find, I had suborn'd the witness,
And he's indited falsely.
Emil. Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you
think ;
And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.
Des. Alas, the day ! I never gave him cause.
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster,
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's
mind !
Emil. Lady, amen.
Des. I will go seek him. — Cassio, walk hereabout :
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia,
Enter Bianca.
Bian. Save you, friend Cassio !
Cas. What make you from home \
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
is so infused into the other members, as to make them all parti
cipate of the pain.'
' totumque infusa per artus,
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.'
17 i. e. the nuptial feast. ,8 See Act ii. Sc. 1, note 26.
SC. IV. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 459
Bian. And I was going; to your lodging, Cassio.
What ! keep a week away? seven days and nights ?
Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eight score times ?
0 weary reckoning !
Cas. Pardon me, Bianca ;
1 have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd ;
But I shall, in a more continuate time,
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
[Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief.
Take me this work out19.
Bian. O, Cassio, whence came this ?
This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause :
Is it come to this? Well, well.
Cas. Go to ! woman,
Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous now,
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance :
No, in good troth, Bianca.
Bian. Why, whose is it ?
Cas. I know not, sweet : I found it in my chamber.
I like the work well ; ere it be demanded,
(As like enough, it will), I'd have it copied :
Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.
Bian. Leave you ! wherefore ?
Cas. I do attend here on the general ;
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me woman'd.
19 i. e. copy this work in another handkerchief. See Act iii.
Sc. 3, note 42. So in Middleton's Women beware Women : —
• she intends
To take out other works in a new sampler.'
Again in the Preface to Holland's Pliny, 1601 : — ' Nicophanes
(a famous painter) gave his mind wholly to antique pictures,
partly to exemplify and take out patterns, after that in long con-
tinuance of time they were decayed.'
460 OTHELLO, ACT III.
Bian. Why, I pray you20
Cas. Not that I love you not.
Bian. But that you do not love me.
I pray you, bring me on the way a little ;
And say, if I shall see you soon at night.
Cas. 'Tis but a little way, that I can bring you,
For I attend here : but I'll see you soon.
Bian. 'Tis very good ; I must be circumstanc'd.
[Exeunt
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Before the Castle.
Enter Othello and Iago.
lago. Will you think so ?
Oth. Think so, lago?
Iago. What
To kiss in private?
Oth. An unauthoris'd kiss.
Iago. Or to be naked with her friend abed,
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm?
Oth. Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm ?
It is hypocrisy against the devil x :
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts 2, and they tempt heaven
20 This and the following speech are wanting in the first quartc
1 ' We must suppose that Iago had heen applying cases c
false comfort to Othello ; as that though the parties had bee
even found in bed together, there might be no harm done : i
might be only for trial of their virtue ; as was reported of th
Romish saint, Robert D'Arbrissel, and his nuns.' — Warburian.
2 The devil tempts their virtue by stirring up their passion.'
and they tempt heaven by placing themselves in a situation whir
makes it scarcely possible to avoid falling by the gratificatio
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 461
lago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip :
3ut if I give my wife a handkerchief,
Oth. What then?
Iago. Why then 'tis hers, ray lord ; and, being hers,
>he may, I think, bestow't on any man.
Oth. She is protectress of her honour too ;
May she give that?
Iago. Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
They have it very oft, that have it not:
But, for the handkerchief,
Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have for-
got it: —
Thou said'st, — O, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all3, — he had my handkerchief.
Iago. Ay, what of that?
Oth. That's not so good, now.
Iago. What, if I had said, I had seen him do you
wrong ?
Or heard him say, — As knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinced or supplied4 them, cannot choose
But they must blab
)f them. Perhaps the story of St. Adhelra, related in Bale's
Actes of Englysh Votaries, is referred to : — ' This Adhelraus
lever refused women, hut wold have them commonly hoth at
borde and bedde, to mocke the devyll with,' &c. See also Fa-
bian's Chronicle, Part IV. ch. 141.
3 The raven was thought to be a constant attendant on a house
infected with the plague.
4 i. e. having by their own importunacy overcome the resist-
tance of a mistress, or, in compliance with her own request, and
in consequence of her unsolicited fondness, gratified her desires.
Mariana tells Angelo, in Measure for Measure : —
' And did supply thee at thy garden house.'
Theobald thought that supplied should be suppled, i. e. * made
her pliant to his desires.'
VOL. X. S S
462 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Oth. Hath he said any thing
Iago. He hath, my lord ; but be you well assur'd
No more than he'll unswear.
Oth. What hath he said
Iago. 'Faith, that he did, — I know not what he did
Oth. What? what?
Iago. Lie
Oth. With her?
Iago. With her, on her; what you will.
Oth. Lie with her ! lie on her ! — We say, lie oi
her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that';
fulsome. — Handkerchief, — confessions, — handker-
chief.— To confess, and be hanged for his labour5
— First to be hanged, and then to confess: — ]
tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself »
such shadowing passion, without some instruction6
It is not words, that shake me thus: — Pish!—
5 This proverbial saying is used in Marlowe's Jew of Malta :
' Blame us not, but the proverb — Confess and be hanged.'
And in one of the old collections there is an epigram on it. — Al
that remains of this speech from to confess is wanting in the 4to
6 ' The starts and broken reflections in this speech (says War
burton) have something in them very terrible, and show th
mind of the speaker to be in inexpressible agonies.'
There is a diiTerence of opinion between the commentator*
some thinking with Warbuton that the words, ' Nature wouh
not invest herself in such shadowing passion, without some in
struction,' allude to his own feelings ; others that they advert t«
the story about Cassio's dream, which had been invented an<
told him by Iago. I must confess that I incline to the latte
opinion : — ' Nature would not express such adumbrations of pas
sion without some former experience.' I think this view of th.
passage confirmed by these words in a former scene : —
* Iago. Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion.'
For (as Sir Joshua Reynolds observes) ' Othello, in broken sen
tences and single words, all of which have a reference to th'
cause of his jealousy, shows that all the proofs are present a
once to his mind, which so overpower it that he falls into
trance.'
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 463
Noses, ears, and lips : — Is it possible ? — Confess !
— Handkerchief! — O devil ! — [Falls in a Trance.
Iago. Work on,
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are
caught ;
And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus,
All guiltless meet reproach. — What, ho ! my lord !
Enter Cassio.
My lord, I say! Othello! — How now, Cassio?
Cas. What is the matter ?
Iago. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy;
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
Cas. Rub him about the temples.
Iago. No, forbear:
The lethargy must have his quiet course :
If not, he foams at mouth ; and, by and by,
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs :
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight; when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you. —
[Exit Cassio.
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
Oth. Dost thou mock me?
Iago. I mock you ! no, by heaven :
'Would, you would bear your fortunes like a man.
Oth. A horned man's a monster, and a beast.
Iago. There's many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
Oth. Did he confess it?
Iago. Good sir, be a man;
Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yok'd,
May draw with you ; there's millions now alive,
That nightly lie in those unproper7 beds,
7 Unproper for common. So in The Mastive, a collection of
Epigrams and Satires : — -
• Rose is a fayre, but not a proper woman ;
Can any creature proper be that's common?'
464 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Which they dare swear peculiar; your case is better
O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch8,
And to suppose her chaste ! No, let me know ;
And, knowing what I am, I know what she shall be
Oth. O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.
Iago. Stand you awhile apart
Confine yourself but in a patient list9.
Whilst you were here, ere while mad 10 with you
grief
(A passion most unsuiting such a man),
Cassio came hither : I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy;
Bade him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promis'd. Do but encave n yourself
And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns
That dwell in every region of his face 12 ;
For I will make him tell the tale anew, —
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is again to cope your wife :
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience ;
Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen,
And nothing of a man.
Oth. Dost thou hear, Iago ?
I will be found most cunning in my patience ;
But (dost thou hear ?) most bloody.
Iago. That's not amiss;
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
[Othello withdraws
8 In a couch in which he is lulled into a false security and
confidence in his wife's virtue : a Latin sense. So in The Merr>
Wives of Windsor: — ' Though Page he a secure fool, and stand-
so firmly on his wife's frailty,' &c. See vol. vii. p. ±21, note 9
9 i. e. within the bounds of patience.
10 The folio reads ' o'erwhelmed with your grief.'
u Hide yourself in a private place.
12 Congreve might have had this passage in his memory whei
he made Lady Touchwood say to Maskwell, ' Ten thousand
meanings lurk in each corner of (hat various face.'
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 465
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A housewife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys herself bread and clothes : it is a creature,
That dotes on Cassio, — as 'tis the strumpet's plague,
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one ;
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter! — Here he comes: —
Re-enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
And his unbookish13 jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour
Quite in the wrong. — How do you now, lieutenant?
Cas. The worser, that you give me the addition,
Whose want even kills me.
lago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure oft.
Now* if this suit lay in Bianca's power,
[Speaking lower.
How quickly should you speed ?
Cas. Alas, poor caitiff !
Oth. Look, how he laughs already ! [Aside.
Iago. I never knew a woman love man so.
Cas. Alas, poor rogue ! I think i'faith she loves me.
Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.
[Aside.
Iago. Do you hear, Cassio ?
Oth. Now he importunes him
To tell it o'er: Go to; well said, well said. [Aside.
Iago. She gives it out, that you shall marry her :
Do you intend it ?
Cas. Ha, ha, ha !
Oth. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph 14 ?
[Aside.
13 Unbookish for ignorant.
14 Othello calls him Roman ironically. Triumph hrought Ro-
man into his thoughts. ' What (says he) you are triumphing as
great as a Roman V
S S 2
466 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Cas. I marry her! — what? a customer15! I pry-
thee, bear some charity to my wit ; do not think it
so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha !
Oth. So, so, so, so : They laugh that win.
[Aside.
Iago. 'Faith, the cry goes, that you shall marry
her.
Cas. Pr'ythee, say true.
Iago. I am a very villain else.
Oth. Have you scored me16? Well. [Aside.
Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out : she
is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love
and flattery, not out of my promise.
Oth. Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.
[Aside.
Cas. She was here even now : she haunts me in
every place. I was, the other day, talking on the
seabank with certain Venetians; and thither comes
this bauble; by this hand17, she falls thus about
my neck; .
Oth. Crying, O dear Cassio ! as it were : his
gesture imports it. [Aside.
Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me ;
so hales, and pulls me : ha, ha, ha ! —
Oth. Now he tells, how she pluck'd him to my
chamber : O, I see that nose of yours, but not that
dog I shall throw it to. [Aside.
Cas. Well, I must leave her company.
Iago. Before me ! look where she comes.
15 ' A common woman, with whom any one may he familiar.
See vol. iv. p. 182, note 6.
16 i. e. f have you numbered my days?'' To score is to tale or
tell, to number, or mark as on a tally. But perhaps it only
means, ' have you marked me ?' as heasts are scored or marked
when purchased for slaughter. The old quarto reads ' have
you stored me?'
17 The folio omits ' by this hand;' and reads ' thither comes
the bauble and falls me thus,' &c.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 467
Enter Bianca.
Cas. Tis such another fitchew18! marry, a per-
fumed one. — What do you mean by this haunting
of me?
Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you !
What did you mean by that same handkerchief,
you gave me even now ? I was a fine fool to take
it. I must take out the whole work? — A likely
piece of work, that you should find it in your cham-
ber, and not know who left it there ! This is some
minx's token, and I must take out the work !
There, — give it your hobby-horse : wheresoever you
had it, I'll take out no work on't.
Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca ? how now ?
how now ?
Oth. By heaven, that should be my handkerchief.
[Aside.
Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you
may : an you will not, come when you arc next
prepared for. [Exit,
Iago. After her, after her.
Cas. 'Faith, I must, she'll rail in the street else.
Iago. Will you sup there ?
Cas. 'Faith, I intend so.
Jago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I
would very fain speak with you.
Cas. Pr'ythee, come; Will you?
Iago. Goto: say no more. [Exit Cassio.
Oth. How shall I murder him, Iago?
Iago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his
vice ?
Oth. O, Iago!
18 Shakspeare has alluded to the lust of this animal in King
Lear. He tells Iago that Bianca is as lewd, but of a better
scent, the polecat being a very stinking animal.
468 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Iago. And did you see the handkerchief?
Oth. Was that mine ?
Iago. Yours, by this hand : and to see how he
prizes the foolish woman, your wife! she gave il
him, and he hath given it his whore.
Oth. I would have him nine years a killing : — A
fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman !
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.
Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned
to-night ; for she shall not live : No, my heart is
turned to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand 19
O, the world hath not a sweeter creature : she mighl
lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.
Iago. Nay, that's not your way.
Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is: — S(
delicate with her needle ! — An admirable musician !
O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear20! —
Of so high and plenteous wit and invention ! —
Iago. She's the worse for all this.
Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times: — And
then, of so gentle a condition !
Iago. Ay, too gentle.
Oth. Nay, that's certain : But yet the pity of it
Iago ! — O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago !
Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, givt
her patent to offend21; for, if it touch not you, ii
comes near nobody.
19 This thought, whiph counteracts the pathos, occurs agair
in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. Sc. 8 : —
• throw my heart
Against the flint and hardness of my fault,
Which being dried with grief will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts.'
20 ' when she hath sung
The tiger would be tame.' Venus' and Adonis.
21 ' Why then give sin a passport to offend?'
Tragedy of King Edward HI. 159G.
SCI. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 469
Oth. I will chop her into messes ! — Cuckold me !
Iago. O, 'tis foul in her.
Oth. With mine officer !
Iago. That's fouler.
Oth. Get me some poison, Iago; this night: —
['11 not expostulate with her, lest her body and
>eauty unprovide my mind again : this night, Iago.
Iago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her
)ed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
Oth. Good, good : the justice of it pleases ; very
£Ood.
Iago. And, for Cassio, — let me be his under-
taker : You shall hear more by midnight.
[A Trumpet within.
Oth. Excellent good. — What trumpet is that same :
Iago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodo-
vico,
Come from the duke : and, see, your wife is with him.
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Lod. 'Save you, worthy general22!
Oth. With all my heart, sir.
Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
[Gives him a Packet.
Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
[Opens the Packet and reads.
22 The quarto reads ' God save the worthy general.' Malone
says that the reply of Othello does not relate to what Lodovico
has just said, but is spoken by Othello while he salutes him.
Steevens, on the contrary, thinks that 'The distracted Othello,
considering his happiness in this world at an end, readily catches
at the idea of future felicity suggested by the words Save you,,
general !' He adds, ' If it be urged that the words only mean
preserve you in this world, my sense of the passage will not be
much weakened ; as our protection, even here, depends on the
Almighty.' — In Measure for Measure (Act ii. Sc. 2) two replies
of Angelo to similar salutations from Isabel are equally equi-
vocal.
470 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico 5
Iago. I am very glad to see you, signior;
Welcome to Cyprus.
Lod. I thank you: How does lieutenant Cassio *!
Iago. Lives, sir.
Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my
lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
Oth. Are you sure of that ?
Des. My lord?
Oth. This fail you not to do, as you will —
[Reads.
Lod. He did not call ; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio ?
Des. A most unhappy one ; I would do much
To atone23 them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
Oth. Fire and brimstone !
Des. My lord?
Oth. Are you wise?
Des. What, is he angry?
Lod. May be, the letter mov'd him ;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.
Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.
Oth. Indeed.
Des. My lord?
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Des. How, sweet Othello?
Oth. Devil ! [Striking her.
Des. I have not deserv'd this.
Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw it: 'Tis very much;
Make her amends, she weeps.
Oth. O devil, devil !
23 i.e. make them one, reconcile them. See vol. iii. p. 211,
note 15.
SC. 1. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 471
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile 24 : —
Out of my sight !
Des. I will not stay to offend you.
[Going.
Lod. Truly, an obedient lady : —
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress,-
Des. My lord?
Oth. What would you with her, sir ?
Lod. Who, I, my lord ?
Oth. Ay ; you did wish, that I would make her turn ;
Sir, she can turn, and turn25, and yet go on,
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say, — obedient, —
Very obedient : — Proceed you in your tears. —
Concerning this, sir, — O well painted passion !
'I am commanded home 26 : — Get you away ;
I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice ; — Hence, avaunt !
[Exit Desdemona.
Cassio shall have my place. And, — sir, — to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
24 ' If women's tears could impregnate the earth.' By the
doctrine of equivocal generation new animals were supposed
producible by new combinations of matter. See Bacon, v. iii.
p. 70, edit. 1740. Shakspeare here alludes to the fabulous
accounts which make the crocodile the most deceitful of ani-
mals, whose tears are proverbially fallacious. ' It is written
that he will weep over a man's head when he hath devoured the
body, and will then eat up the head too.' Wherefore in Latin
there is a proverb, ' Crocodile lachrymae, crocodiles teares, to
signifie such teares as are feigned, and spent only with intent to
deceive or do harm.' — Bullokar's Expositor, 1616.
To fall, in this passage, is a verb active.
24 So in King Henry VI. Part I. :—
* Done like a Frenchman ; turn and turn again.'
26 The quarto reads, ' I am commanded here.'
472 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats, and moi
keys2?! [Exi
Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senal
Call — all-in-all sufficient? — This the noble nature
Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtu
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce ?
Iago. He is much chang'c
Lod. Are his wits safe ? is he not light of brain
Iago. He is that he is; I may not breathe m
censure.
What he might be, — if what he might, he is not,-
I would to heaven, he were.
Lod. What, strike his wife
Iago. 'Faith, that was not so well ; Yet 'would I
knew,
That stroke would prove the worst.
Lod. Is it his use
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new create this fault?
Iago. Alas, alas !
It is not honesty in me, to speak
What I have seen and known. You shall observe hiii
And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech : Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.
[Exeun
27 In this exclamation Shakspeare has shown great art. l&i
in the first scene, in which he endeavours to awaken his susp
cion, being urged to give some evident proof of the guilt i
Cassio and Desdemona, tells him it were impossible to hai
occular demonstration of it, though they should be as prime i
goats, as hot as monkeys. These words, we may suppose, sti
ring in the ears of Othello, who, being now fully convinced
his wife's.infidelity, rushes out with this emphatic exclamatioi
' Iago's words were but too true ; now, indeed, I am convinci
that they are as hot as goats and monkeijs.''
THE MOOR OF VENICE. 473
SCENE II1. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Othello and Emilia.
Oth. You have seen nothing then ?
Emit. Nor ever heard ; nor ever did suspect.
Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
Emit. But then I saw no harm : and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between them.
Oth. What, did they never whisper ?
Emil. Never, my lord.
Oth. Nor send you out o' the way ?
Emil. Never.
Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor
nothing?
Emil. Never, my lord.
Oth. That's strange.
Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse !
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy ; the purest of their wives -
Is foul as slander.
1 There are great difficulties in ascertaining the place of this
scene. What Othello says in an early part of it to Emilia —
• Leave procreants alone, and shut the door' — and his subse-
quent address to her as he goes out, decisively point out a
room in Othello's Castle as the place of the scene; and compel
us to place the interlocutors there, however inconsistent with
Roderigo's entry, and Iago's address to Desdemona, ' Go in and
weep not.' The truth is, that our poet and his audience, in this
instance, as in many others, were content, from want of scenery,
to consider the very same spot, at one and the same time, as the
outside and inside of a house. See the Historical Account of
the English Stage, &c. [Boswell's edition of Malone's Shak-
speare, vol. iii.] — Malone.
2 The quarto reads ' of her sex.'
VOL. X. T T
474 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Oth. Bid her come hither : — go. —
[Exit Emilia
She says enough : — yet she's a simple bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whort
A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets :
And yet she'll kneel, and pray ; I have seen her do'
Re-enter Emilia, with Desdemona.
Des. My lord, what is your will?
Oth. 'Pray, chuck, come hithe
Des. What is your pleasure ?
Oth. Let me see your eyes
Look in my face.
Des. What horrible fancy's this?
Oth. Some of your function, mistress ;
[To Emili/
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door ;
Cough, or cry — hem, if any body come :
Your mystery, your mystery ; — nay, despatch.
[Exit Emili/
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speec
import ?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words 3.
Oth. Why, what art thou ?
Des. Your wife, my lord ; your tru
And loyal wife.
Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselve
Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double damn'd
Swear — thou art honest.
Des. Heaven doth truly know it
Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false a
hell.
Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How an
I false?
3 This line is Dot in the folio.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 475
Oth. O Desdemoua ! — away ! away ! away !
Des. Alas, the heavy day ! — Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord ?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.
Oth. Had it pleas'd heaven
To try me with affliction ; had he rain'd
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn4
4 Rowe reads ' the hand of scorn,' an elegant and satisfactory
emendation ; and it is to be wished that there was sufficient autho-
rity to admit it into the text. Steevens thinks the old reading
right, saying, that Othello takes his idea from a clock: ' To
make me (says he) a fixed figure (on the dial of the world) for
the hour of scorn to point and make a fall stop at !' adducing
many similar expressions in defence of it, as 'the hour of death,'
' the day of judgment,' the moment of evil;' and in King Richard
the Third :—
'Had you such leisure in the time of death V
Also in Marston's Insatiate Countess : —
' I'll poison thee; with murder curbe thy paths,
And make thee know a time of infamy.'
He afterwards suggests that Shakspeare may have written
' for the scorn of time
To point his slow unmoving finger at.'
i. e. the marked object for the contempt of all ages and all time.
The folio reads and moving instead of unmoving. To me- there
seems to be no objection in ' slow moving;' about which Malone
and Mason make difficulties. The epithet derives support from
Shakspeare's 104th Sonnet: —
' Ah ! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived ;
So your sweet hue, Avhich methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived.'
The finger of the dial was the technical phrase. And in The
Comedy of Errors we have —
' Time's deformed [i. e. deforming] hand.'
476 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
To point his slow unmoving finger at, —
O! O!
Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well :
But there, where I have garner'd5 up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life6;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence !
up
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in7 ! — turn thy complexion there
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell8 !
Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed 9,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would, thou had's
ne'er been born !
Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly bools
Made to write whore upon? What committed10!
Committed ! — O thou public commoner !
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
5 i. e. treasured up.
6 * Whereby we do exist or cease to be.' Lear.
7 So in Antony and Cleopatra : —
' So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made
A cistern for scal'd snakes.'
8 ' At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour
at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look grim c
hell.' The old copies have, ' I here look grim as hell.' J wa
written for ay ; and here was an evident error of the press fo
there. Theobald made the correction.
9 The quarto reads : —
' O thou black weed, tchy art so lovely fair ?
Thou smell'st so sweet, that the sense aches at thee,' &c.
10 This and the three following lines are not in the fir
quarto. The peculiar sense in which committed is here used ma
be gathered from King Lear, Act iii. Sc. 14 : — ' Commit not wit
man's sworn spouse.' It is so used by many of our old writer
and comes from the transgression, being a violation of the cor
iiiandment, ' Thou shalt not commit adultery.'
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 477
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed !
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets n,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed ! —
Impudent strumpet !
Des. By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet ?
Des. No, as I am a Christian :
If to preserve this vessel for my lord lc,
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Des. No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is it possible?
Des. O, heaven forgive us !
Oth. I cry you mercy, then;
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. — You, mistress,
Re-enter Emilia.
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell ; You ! you ! ay, you !
We have done our course ; there's money for your
pains ;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit.
Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive ? —
How do you, madam ? how do you, my good lady ?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.
Emil. Good madam,what's the matter with my lord ?
Des. With who?
11 So in The Merchant of Venice : —
' Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind.''
12 This expression is from Sacred Writ :— ■ To possess his
vessel in sanctificalion.'
T T 2
478 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Emil. Why, with my lord, madam
Des. Who is thy lord13'?
Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady
Des. I have none : Do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep; nor answer I have none,
But what should go by water14. 'Pr'ythee, to-nigh
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, — remember ;—
And call thy husband hither.
Emil. Here is a change, indeed ! [Exit
Des. 7Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet.
How have I been behav'd, that he might stick
The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse15?
Re-enter Emilia, with Iago.
Iago. What is your pleasure, madam ? How i
it with you ?
Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach youn;
babes,
Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks :
He might have chid me so ; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
Iago. What's the matter, lady
Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.
Des. Am I that name, Iago ?
Iago. What name, fair lady
Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was.
13 This and the following speech are not in the quarto.
14 There are some lines on the death of Queen Elizabeth ii
Camden, also to he found in Decker's Wonderful Yeare, 1603
which conclude with a similar conceit: —
1 I think the barge-men might with easier thighs
Have rowed her thither in her people's eves:
For how-so-ere, thus much my thoughts have scann'd,
Sh'ad come by water, had she come by land.'
15 This is the reading of the quarto; which Dr. Johnsor
thought preferable to the reading of the folio — on my least mis
use.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 479
EmiL He call'd her, whore ; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet16.
Iago. Why did he so ?
Des. I do not know ; I am sure, I am none such.
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep ; Alas, the day !
EmiL Has she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, and her friends,
To be call'd — whore ? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune.
Iago. Beshrew him for it !
How comes this trick upon him ?
Des. Nay, heaven doth know.
EmiL I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander ; I'll be hang'd else.
Iago. Fye, there is no such man; it is impossible.
Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him !
EmiL A halter pardon him ! and hell gnaw his
bones !
Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her
company ?
What place ? what time ? what form ? what likeli-
hood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave 17,
Some base notorious 18 knave, some scurvy fellow : —
0, heaven, that such companions 19 thoud'st unfold ;
16 A callet is a trull, a drab. The word is of great antiquity in
the English language. Chaucer has it in his Remedy of Love.
Harington uses it in his translation of Ariosto, 1591: —
' And thus this old ill-favour'd spitefull callet.'
In a note he says, ' Callet is a nick-name used to a woman ;' and
that in Irish it signilies a witch. The etymology of the word is
yet to seek.
17 The quarto has, ' some outrageous knave.'
18 Some notorious knave is here used for some knave worthy
to be noted, or branded to everlasting infamy.
19 It has been already observed that companion was a term of
contempt. See vol. viii. p. 235, note 11.
480 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west !
Iago. Speak within door 2l
Emil. O, fye upon him ! some such squire he wa>
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without21,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago. You are a fool; go to.
Des. O good Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again ?
Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel22: —
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought23, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form ;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, — though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love. I cannot say, whore;
It does abhor me, now I speak the word ;
20 * Do not clamour so as to be heard beyond the house.'
21 Iago, in a former scene, speaks of Roderigo as of on»
' Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side outward.'
22 The quarto omits the rest of this speech.
23 ' Discourse of thought' is the ' discursive range of thought.
Pope changed it to ' discourse or thought.' I have shown in i
f.irmer page that the old reading is the poet's mode of expres
sion. So in Davies's Epigrams, ' v. In Plurimos:' —
• But since the divell brought them thus togither,
To my discoursing thoughts it is a wonder,
Why presently, as soone as they came thither,
The selfe same divell did them part asunder.'
See Hamlet, p. 174. Steevens thought that Pope's alteration
defensible, because the Liturgy mentions three modes of com'
mitting sin — • in thought, icord, aud deed.''
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 481
To do the act that might the addition earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
Iago. I pray you, be content ; 'tis but his humour ;
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you24.
Des. If 'twere no other, —
Iago. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets.
Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
And the great messengers of Venice stay15 :
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.
Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo ?
Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with
me.
Iago. What in the contrary ?
Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some de-
vice, Iago; and rather (as it seems to me now),
keep'st from me all conveniency, than suppliest me
with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed,
no longer endure it : Nor am I yet persuaded, to
put up in peace what already I have foolishly suf-
fered.
Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo ?
Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much ; for your
words and performances, are no kin together.
Iago. You charge me most unjustly.
Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted
myself out of my means. The jewels you have
24 This was the phraseology of the time. ' To complaine, to
make a quarrel, to chide with one for a thing. Expostulare et
queri.' Again : — ' Is it hest to chide with him or take him up
for this displeasure or wrong?' — Baret. So Shakspeare's 111th
Sonnet : —
' O for my sake do you with fortune chide.'
25 Thus the quarto. The folio poorly reads : —
* The messengers of Venice stay the meat.'
432 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
had from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would hal
have corrupted a votarist: You have told me — she
has received them, and returned me expectations
and comforts of sudden respect and acquittance26
but I find none.
Iago. Well ; go to ; very well.
Rod. Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to, man ;
nor 'tis not very well : By this hand, I say, it k
very scurvy ; and begin to find myself fobbed in it.
Iago. Very well.
Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make
myself known to Desdemona: If she will return
me my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent
my unlawful solicitation ; if not, assure yourself, I
will seek satisfaction of you.
Iago. You have said now.
Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing, but what I
protest intendment of doing.
Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee;
and even, from this instant, do build on thee a bet-
ter opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand,
Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most just
exception; but, yet I protest, I have dealt most
directly in thy affair.
Rod. It hath not appeared.
Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared; and
your suspicion is not without wit and judgment"7.
But, Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed,
which I have greater reason to believe now than
ever, — I mean, purpose, courage, and valour, —
26 The folio reads acquaintance. Acquittance is requital. So
in King Henry V.:
* And shall forge the office of our hand
Sooner than 'quittance of desert and merit.'
27 ' Shakspeare knew well that most men like to be flattered
on account of those endowments in which they are most deficient.
Hence Iago's compliment to this snipe on his sagacity and shrewd-
ness.'— Malone.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 483
this night show it : if thou the next night following
enjoyest not Desdemona, take me from this world
with treachery, and devise engines for my life28.
Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason, and
compass ?
Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from
Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place.
Rod. Is that true? why, then Othello and Des-
demona return again to Venice.
Iago. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes
away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode
be lingered here by some accident; wherein none
can be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.
Rod. How do you mean — removing of him ?
Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othel-
lo's place; knocking out his brains.
Rod. And that you would have me do?
Iago. Ay ; if you dare do yourself a profit, and
a right. He sups to-night with a harlot 29, and thi-
ther will I go to him; — he knows not -yet of his
honourable fortune: if you will watch his going
thence (which I will fashion to fall out between
twelve and one), you may take him at your plea-
sure ; I will be near to second your attempt, and
he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed
at it, but go along with me ; I will show you such
a necessity in his death, that you shall think your-
self bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-
time, and the night grows to waste30: about it.
Rod. I will hear further reason for this.
Iago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt.
28 To devise engines seems to mean to contrive instruments of
torture' &c. So in King Lear : —
• like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature.'
29 The folio reads ' a harlotry' Shakspeare has the expres-
sion, ' a peevish self-will'd harlotry,' in two other plays.
'M i. e. the night is wasting apace. So in Julius Caesar: —
* Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.'
484 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
SCENE III. Another Room in the Castle.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emi-
lia, and Attendants.
Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no
further.
Oth. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk.
Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your
ladyship.
Des. Your honour is most welcome.
Oth. Will you walk, sir ? —
O, — Desdemona,
Des. My lord?
Oth. Get you to bed on the instant, I will be
returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there;
look, it be done.
Des. I will, my lord.
[Exeunt Oth. Lod. and Attendants.
Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than
he did.
Des. He says he will return incontinent;
He hath commanded me to. go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
Emil. Dismiss me !
Des. It was his bidding ; therefore, good Emilia,
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu :
We must not now displease him.
Emil. I would, you had never seen him !
Des. So would not I ; my love doth so approve him,
That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns, —
Pr'ythee, unpin me, — have grace and favour in them.
Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on
the bed.
Des. All's one : — Good father * ! how foolish are
our minds ! —
1 The quarto of lf>22 reads ' good faith.'
SC. III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 485
f I do die before thee, 'pr'ythee, shroud me
n one of those same sheets.
Emil. Come, come, you talk.
Des. My mother had a maid call'd — Barbara;
She was in love ; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad 2,
And did forsake her: she had a song of — willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it : That song, to-night,
Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do 3,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. 'Pr'ythee, despatch.
Emil. Shali I go fetch your night-gown?
Des. No, unpin me here. —
This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emil. A very handsome man.
Des. And he speaks well.
Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have
walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his
nether lip.
2 Mad must here be accepted as meaning wild, unruly, fickle.
As a constant mind meant a firm or sound one, inconstancy would
of course be considered a species of madness.
3 From J have much to do to Nay, that's not next was inserted
after the first edition in quarto, 1622, as was likewise the re-
maining part of the song. Desdemona means to say — I have much
ado to do any thing but hang my head, &c. ' This (says Dr. John-
son) is perhaps the only insertion made in the latter editions
which has improved the play : the rest seem to have been added
for the sake of amplification or ornament. When the imagination
had subsided, and the mind was no longer agitated by the hor-
ror of the action, it became at leisure to look round for specious
additions. This addition is natural. Desdemona can at first
hardly forbear to sing the song ; she endeavours to change her
train of thought, but her imagination at last prevails, and she
sings it.' — The ballad, in two parts, printed from the original in
black letter in the Pepys collection, is to be found in Dr. Percy's
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 192.
VOL. X. U U
486 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
I.
Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree.
Sing all a green willow ; [Singing.
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur3 d her
moans ;
Sing willow, Sfc.
Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones ;
Lay by these :
Sing willow, willow, willow ;
'Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon. —
Sing all a green willow must be my gar-
land.
II.
Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve, —
Nay, that's not next. — Hark ! who is it that knocks ?
Emil. It is the wind.
Des. I calVd my love, false love; but what said
he then?
Sing willow, Sfc.
If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men4.
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch ;
Doth that bode weeping?
Emil. 'Tis neither here nor there.
Des. I have heard it said so5. — O, these men,
these men ! —
4 This couplet is not in the original ballad, which is the com-
plaint not of a woman forsaken, but of a man rejected. These
lines were properly added when it was accommodated to a wo-
man.
5 This as well as the following speech is omitted in the first
quarto.
SC. HI. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 487
Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me, Emilia, —
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind ?
Emit. There be some such, no question.
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the
world?
Emil. Why, would not you ?
Des. No, by this heavenly light !
Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
I might do't as well i'the dark.
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the
world ?
Emil. The world is a huge thing : 'Tis a great price
For a small vice.
Des. Good troth, I think thou would'st not.
Emil. By my troth, I think I should ; and un-
do't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do
such a thing for a joint-ring6; nor for measures of
lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any
petty exhibition: but, for the. whole world, — Wrhy,
who would not make her husband a cuckold, to
make him a monarch ? I should venture purgatory
br't.
Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
Tor the whole world.
Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the
world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis
a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly
make it right.
6 A joint-ring was anciently a common token among lovers
See Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. 1632, 544. Their
nature will be best understood by a passage in Dryden's Don
Sebastian : —
• a curious artist wrought them,
With joints so close as not to be perceiv'd ;
Yet are they both each other's counterpart :
and, in the midst,
A heart divided in two halves was placed.'
488 OTHELLO, ACT IV.
Des. I do not think there is any such woman.
Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many
To the vantage7, as would store the world they
play'd for.
But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults
If wives do fall : Say, that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps8;
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us,
Or scant our former having9 in despite :
Why, we have galls; and, though we have some
grace,
Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense 10 like them : they see, and
smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do,
When they change us for others ? Is it sport ?
I think it is ; And doth affection breed it?
I think, it doth; Is't frailty, that thus errs ?
It is so too : And have not we affections ?
Desires for sport? and frailty, as men have?
Then, let them use us well : else, let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to u.
Des. Good night, good night ; Heaven me such
usage12 send,
Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend !
[Exeunt.
7 i. e. to boot, over and above. The remaining part of this
speech is omitted in the first qnarto.
8 So in Shakspeare's 142d Sonnet : —
• Robb'd other beds' revenues of their rents.'
9 Our former allowance of expense.
10 Sense is here used, as in Hamlet, for sensation, or sensual
appetites. See p. 273, ante.
11 The old copy reads, ' their ills instruct us so.'
12 ' Such uses' is the reading of the folio; but the first quarto
has ' such usage,' which Dr. Johnson prefers, I think, without
reason.
THE MOOR OF VENICE. 489
ACT V.
SCENE I. A Street.
Enter Iago and Roderigo.
Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk ; straight will
he come;
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home :
Quick, quick ; fear nothing ; I'll be at thy elbow :
It makes us, or it mars us ; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Rod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't.
Iago. Here, at thy hand ; be bold, and take thy
sword. [Retires to a little distance.
Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons : —
?Tis but a man gone : — forth, my sword; he dies.
[Goes to his stand.
Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to
the sense1,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain ~ : Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
1 A quat, in the midland counties, is still used for a pimple,
which by rubbing is made to smart, or rubbed to sense. Roderigo
is called a quat by the same mode of speech as a low fellow is
now termed in low language a scab. To rub to the sense is to
rub to the quick. This explanation by Dr. Johnson had previ-
ously appeared in the British Magazine, 1748, p. 425. So in
The Devil's Law Case, 1623 : — ' O yong quat ! incontinence is
plagued in all the creatures of the world.' The word is also
used in Decker's Gul's Hornbook.
2 The quartos read ' my game.'
u u 2
490 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd3 from him,
As gifts to Desdemona ;
It must not be : if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me ugly ; and besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him ; there stand I in much peril :
No, he must die : — But so, I hear him coming.
Enter Cassio.
Rod. I know his gait, 'tis he; — Villain, thou diest
[Rushes from his post, and makes a pass at
Cassio.
Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou think'st ;
I will make proof of thine.
[Draws, and wounds Roderigo.
Rod. O, I am slain !
[Iago rushes from his post, cuts Cassio
behind in the Ley 4, and exit.
Cas. I am maim'd for ever: — Help, ho! mur-
der ! murder ! [Falls.
Enter Othello, at a distance.
Oth. The voice of Cassio : — Iago keeps his word.
Rod. O, villain that I am !
Oth. Hark ! 'tis even so.
Cas. O, help ! ho ! light ! a surgeon !
Oth. 'Tis he; — O brave Iago, honest, and just,
3 ■ That IfooVd him out of.' To bob is to cheat or deceive
with a false tale. So in Turberville's Songs and Sonnets : —
• When wedding day was doon,
To play her pranks, and bob the foole,
The shrowish wife bcgoon.'
4 Iago maims Cassio in the leg, in consequence of what he had
jus* heard him say ; from which he supposed that his body was
defended by some secret armour.
mt
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 491
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
Thou teachest me, — Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your fate hies5 apace; — Strumpet, I come:
Forth6 of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are
blotted ;
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be
spotted. [Exit Othello.
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano, at a distance.
Cos. What, ho! no watch! no passage7? mur-
der ! murder !
Gra. 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very
direful.
Cas. O, help !
Lod. Hark !
Rod. O wretched villain !
Lod. Two or three groans : — it is a heavy8 night :
These may be counterfeits ; let's think't unsafe
To come into the cry, without more help.
Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
5 Thus the first quarto. The second quarto and the folio
read ' And your unblest fate hies.'
6 The folio reads 'for of;' the quarto reads forth of, i.e. out
of. So in King Richard III. : —
• I clothe my naked villany
With odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ.'
And in Hamlet : —
1 Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep.'
Again in Jonson's Volpone : —
1 Forth the resolved corners of his eyes.'
7 'No passengers? nobody going by?' So in the Comedy of
Errors : —
1 Now in the stirring passage of the day.'
A passenger anciently signified a passage-boat or vessel, and could
not therefore be used in its modern sense without an equivoque.
8 i. e. a thick cloudy night.
492 OTHELLO, ACT V,
Enter I A go, with a Light.
Lod. Hark!
Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light
and weapons.
Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that
cries on murder9?
Lod. We do not know.
Lago. Did you not hear a cry ?
Cas. Here, here; for heaven's sake, help me.
Iago. What's the matter?
Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
Lod. The same, indeed; a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you here that cry so grievously?
Cas. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
Iago. O me, lieutenant ! what villains have done
this?
Cas. I think, that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
Iago. O treacherous villains! — ■
What are you there ? come in, and give some help.
[To Lodovico and Gratiano.
Rod. O, help me here !
Cas. That's one of them.
Iago. O murderous slave ! O villain !
[Iago stabs Roderigo.
Rod. O damn'd Iago ! O inhuman dos: ! — -
O! O! O!
Iago. Kill men i'the dark! — Where be these
bloody thieves ?
How silent is this town ! — Ho ! murder ! murder!
What may you be ? are you of good, or evil?
Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.
9 This phrase, to cry on, for cry out on, has already occurred
in Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2. See p. 347, ante.
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 493
Iago. Signior Lodovico?
Lod. He, sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy ; Here's Cassio hurt
By villains.
Gra. Cassio?
Iago. How is it, brother ?
Cas. My leg is cut in two.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid ! —
Light, gentlemen ; I'll bind it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry 'd ?
Iago. Who is't that cry'd?
Bian. O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio !
O Cassio ! Cassio ! Cassio !
Iago. O notable strumpet ! — Cassio, may you
suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?
Cas. No.
Gra. I am sorry, to find you thus : I have been
to seek you.
Iago. Lend me a garter10: So. — O, for a chair,
To bear him easily hence !
Bian. Alas,he faints : — O Cassio ! Cassio ! Cassio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury11.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. — Come, come ;
Lend me a light. — Know we this face, or no ?
Alas ! my friend, and my dear countryman 12,
Roderigo? no: — Yes, sure; O heaven ! Roderigo.
Gra. What, of Venice ?
10 This speech is not in the first quarto.
11 Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads — to bear a part in
this.
12 This passage incontestably proves that Iago was meant for
a Venetian.
404 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Iago. Even he, sir ; did you know him ?
Gra. Know him, ay.
Iago. Signior Gratiano ? I cry you gentle pardon;
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.
Gra. I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Cassio ? — O, a chair, a chair !
Gra. Roderigo?
Iago. He, he, 'tis he: — O, that's well said; — the
chair : — [A Chair brought in.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence ;
I'll fetch the general's surgeon. — For you, mistress,
[To BlANCA.
Save you your labour. He that lies slain here,
Cassio,
Was my dear friend : What malice was between you?
Cas. None in the world ; nor do I know the man.
Iago. [To Bian.] What, look you pale? — 0,
bear him out o'the air. —
[Cassio and Rod. are borne off.
Stay you, good gentlemen13: — Look you pale, mis-
tress ?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye14? —
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon : —
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her ;
Do you see, gentlemen ? nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use15.
13 Thus the folio. The quarto reads — Stay you, good gentl
ivoman. It seems probable that Iago addresses Lodovico anc
Gratiano, who are going away to assist Cassio, and to see him
properly taken care of. The subsequent appeal and address of
Iago to them appears to confirm this supposition. Malone follow*,
the quarto, and defends the reading of it.
14 The quarto, instead of gastness, reads jestures, and instead
of stare, in the next line, has stirre.
15 So in Hamlet:—
1 For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak,
With most miraculous organ.'
SC. I. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 495
Enter Emilia.
Emit. 'Las, what's the matter ; what's the matter,
I husband ?
Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark,
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd;
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Emil. Alas, good gentleman ! alas, good Cassio !
Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. — 'Pr'ythee,
Emilia,
jo know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night16: —
What, do you shake at that?
Bian. He supp'd at my house ; but I therefore
shake not.
Iago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.
Emil. Fye, fye upon thee, strumpet !
Bian. I am no strumpet ; but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.
Emil. As I? foh ! fye upon thee!
Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio
dress'd : —
Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale. —
Emilia, run you to the citadel,
16 In the second scene of the preceding act Iago informs
Roderigo that Cassio was to sup with Bianca ; that he would go
:o him there, and bring him away between twelve and one. In-
deed Cassio had himself told Iago that he would sup with
Bianca, and Iago had promised to meet him at her house. We
must suppose, therefore, that this consummate villain thought
it more secure to waylay him, as we find he does, without actu-
ally joining him at suppertime. Otherwise Bianca would surely
have answered : —
1 Why, you well know
He supp'd,' &c.
Steevens suggests that as the former line is imperfect, some such
words may have been accidentally omitted. His other suppo-
sition, ' perhaps the poet was unwilling that Bianca should say,
in the presence of Iago's wife, that he too had been of the sup-
per party,' is much less probable.
490 OTHELLO, ACT V.
And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd. —
Will you go on, I pray; — This is the night, [Aside.
That either makes me, or fordoes 17 me quite.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Bedchamber: Desdemona in
Bed asleep. A Light burning.
Enter Othello.
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars1 ! —
It is the cause. — Yet I'll not shed her blood ;
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
[ Takes off his sword.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then — Put out the light 2 !
17 To fordo is to undo, to ruin, to destroy. So in Hamlet: —
' Did with desperate hand
Fordo its own life.'
1 Othello, full of horror at the cruel action which he is ahout
to perpetrate, seems at this instant to be seeking his justification,
from representing to himself the cause, i. e. the greatness of the
provocation he had received.
2 The -old copy gives this line thus : —
' Put out the light, and then put out the light.'
The present regulation of the passage, by which so much beauty
and spirit is added to it, was proposed by Mr. Upton, but it is to
be found in Ayres's Life of Pope ; it may therefore have origi-
nated with Warburton, who thus explains it : — ' The meaning is,
I will put out the light, and then proceed to the execution of my
purpose. But the expression of putting out the light, bringing
to mind the effects of the extinction of the light of life, he breaks
short, and questions himself about the effects of this metaphori-
cal extinction, introduced by a repetition of his first words, as
much as to say, — But hold, let me first weigh the reflection
which this expression naturally excites.' Dr. Farmer treats
this as a refinement of Warburton's, observing that to put out the
light was a phrase for to hill. Malone stoutly combats on the
same side, but his arguments have not oonvinced me, and I have
therefore followed Warburton's arrangement. Mr. Bos well
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 497
[f I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
[ can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me : — but once put out thine3,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
[ know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume 4. When I have pluck'd
thy rose,
[ cannot give it vital growth again,
[t needs must wither : — I'll smell it on the tree. —
[Kissing her.
3 balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one more.—
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after : — One more, and this the last :
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears ; This sorrow's heavenly ;
It strikes, where it doth love 5. — She wakes —
Des. Who's there? Othello?
Oth. Ay, Desdemona.
Des. Will you come to bed, my lord ?
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?
would have done so if he could have used his own discretion.
1 I have felt bound (says he) to print the text according to
Mr. Malone's opinion ; but if Warburton's explanation be an
error, it is demptus per vim, I for one am very sorry to part with
it. Broken sentences, as Mr. Malone has more than once ob-
served, are very much in our poet's manner, and are surely
natural in the perturbed state of Othello's mind. I am unwilling
to persuade myself that a regulation of the text which contains
so much beauty could be merely the refinement of a critic, and
that our great author, in one of his most highly wrought scenes,
instead of it, intended nothing but a cold conceit.
3 Thus the quarto. The folio reads — put out thy light. Stee-
vens adopted the present reading for the sake of the measure,
and to avoid the useless repetition of the word light.
4 Thus the folio. The first quarto — returne : the second
quarto — relumine.
5 This image seems to be derived from Scripture : — • Whom
the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.'
VOL. X. XX
498 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Des. Ay, my lord.
Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime,
Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that ?
Oth. Well, do it, and be brief ; I will walk by :
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit ;
No, — Heaven forfend ! — I would not kill thy soul6.
Des. Talk you of killing?
Oth. Ay, I do.
Des. Then, heaven
Have mercy on me!
Oth. Amen, with all my heart !
Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Oth. Humph!
Des. And yet I fear you : for you are fatal then,
When your eyes roll so : Why I should fear, I
know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel, I fear.
Oth. Think on thy sins.
Des. They are loves I bear to you.
Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.
Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for loving7. —
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip ?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame ;
6 Davenant has borrowed this thought in his Law of Lom-
bardy: —
' I am not fraught with the devil's spleen ; I would
not hurt thy soul.'
Othello seems to have been a favourite of his author ; for he has
bestowed on him that piety he has refused to Hamlet. See
p. 268, ante. — Steevens*
7 This thought is likewise found in The Legend of Orpheus
and Euridice, by H. L. 1597 :—
' Unnatural that kill where you should kiss.'
And in King Richard III. : —
' It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.'
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 499
These are portents ; but yet, I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.
Oth. Peace, and be still !
Des. I will so : What's the matter ?
Oth. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd, and
gave thee,
Thou gav'st to Cassio.
Des. No, by my life and soul ;
Send for the man, and ask him.
Oth. Sweet soul, take heed,
fake heed of perjury ; thou'rt on thy death-bed.
Des. Ay, but not yet to die.
Oth. Yes, presently :
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin ;
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conception,
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me !
Oth. I say, amen.
Des. And have you mercy too ! I never did
Offend you in my life ; never lov'd Cassio,
But with such general warranty of heaven
As T might love : I never gave him token.
Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his
hand.
0 perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart,
j And mak'st me call, what I intend to do, —
(A murder which I thought,) — a sacrifice8 :
i'l saw the handkerchief.
j
8 ' This line is difficult. Thou hast hardened my heart, and
makest me kill thee with the rage of a murderer, when J thought
to have sacrificed thee to justice with the calmness of a priest
striking a victim.' — Johnson. There is a second attempt at ex-
planation by Johnson, adopting the reading of one of the quartos
— ' thou dost stone thy heart,' still less successful than the
above. The obvious sense of the passage is — ' Thou dost harden
my heart, and mak'st me now call what I intend to do, — and
500 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Des. He found it then ;
I never gave it him : — Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.
Oth. He hath confess'd.
Des. What, my lord ?
Oth. That he hath— us'd thee9.
Des. How? unlawfully?
Oth. Ay.
Des. He'll not say so.
Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
Des. My fear interprets then, — What, is he dead?
Oth. Had all his hairs been lives10, my great
revenge
Had stomach for them all.
Des. Alas ! he is betray'd, and I undone.
Oth. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to
my face ?
Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not.
Oth. Down, strumpet !
Des. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-nis:ht.
Oth. Nay, if you strive, >
which I before thought murder, — a sacrifice only.' The difficulty
consists in the inverted phrase — ' a murder which I thought' — >
heing parenthetical. The passage has been hitherto absurdly
pointed. Johnson exclaims — ' I am glad that I have ended this
dreadful scene. It is not to be endured.'
9 The quarto 1622 reads :—
« That he hath uds death.'
10 This thought appears to have been common : —
• Know, Caesar, had I now as many lives
As there are stones, or hairs upon my head,
I would/ &c. The Devils Charier, 1007.
Again in Beaumont and Fletcher's King and No King, produced
in 1011:—
' but if all
My hairs were lives, I would be engaged
In such a cause.'
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 501
Des. But half an hour.
Oth. Being done,
There is no pause n.
Des. But while I say one prayer.
Oth. It is too late 12. [He smothers her.
Emil. [Within.] My lord, my lord! what ho !
my lord ! my lord !
Oth. What noise is this ? — Not dead ! not yet
quite dead ?
I, that am cruel, am yet merciful ;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain. —
So, so13.
Emil. [Within.] What ho! my lord, my lord!
. Oth. Who's there?
Emil. [ Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak
a word with you.
Oth. Yes ; — 'tis Emilia :— by and by. — She's
dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death :
The noise was high. — Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in ? Were't srood ?
I think, she stirs again: — No. — What's the best?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife :
My wife ! my wife! what wife? — I have no wife14:
11 The first quarto omits this speech.
12 After this speech of Othello, the elder quarto adds an in-
vocation from Desdemona, consisting only of the sacred name
thrice repeated. The statue of the 3d of James I. c. 21, against
the profane use of the name of God, &c. was highly necessary,
for many of the old plays abound in the most wanton and shock-
ing profanations of a name which never ought to be mentioned
in such an irreverend manner on the stage.
13 It is supposed that some theatrical direction has been
omitted, and that, when Othello says, ' So, so,' he then stabs
her. After the repetition of wounds, Desdemona might speak
again with propriety, and yet very soon expire.
14 • Filium unicum adolescentulum
Habeo : ah ! quid dixi habere me ? imo habui, Chreme.'
Terent. Heautont.
x x 2
502 OTHELLO, ACT V.
O insupportable ! O heavy hour 15 !
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon ; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.
Emil. [ Within.] I do beseech you I may speak
with you,
O, good my lord !
Oth. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia: —
Soft, — by and by : — Let me the curtains draw. — •
Where art thou ? What's the matter with thee now ?
[ Unlocks the door.
Enter Emilia.
Emil. O, good my lord, yonder 's foul murder done.
Oth. What? now?
Emil. But now, my lord !
Oth. It is the very error of the moon ;
She comes more near the earth than she was wont;
And makes men mad l6.
Emil. Cassio, my lord, has kill'd a young Ve-
netian,
Call'd— Roderigo.
Oth. Roderigo kill'd!
And Cassio kill'd?
Emil. .No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd !
Emil. Alas! what cry is that?
Oth. That! what?
Emil. Out, and alas ! that was my lady's voice :—
15 Steevens seems to think the use of the epithet heavy hour
here unusual. Surely there is nothing more common. Heavy,
sad, and grievous are synonymous with all our old writers.
16 ' On my fayth I thynke the moone be at the full,
For frantyke fansyes be. then most plenteful.'
The Play of the Wether, by John Heywood.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 503
Help ! help, ho ! help ! — O lady, speak again !
Sweet Desdemona ! O, sweet mistress, speak !
Des. A guiltless death I die.
Emil. O, who hath done
This deed?
Des. Nobody ; I myself ; farewell :
Commend me to my kind lord; O, farewell. [Dies.
Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd?
Emil. Alas, who knows ?
Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I.
Emil. She said so ; I must needs report the truth.
Oth. She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell ;
'Twas I that kill'd her.
Emil. O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil !
Oth. She turn'd to folly17, and she was a whore.
Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
Oth. She was false as water 18.
Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false; O, she was heavenly true !
Oth. Cassio did tup her ; ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity ; Thy husband knew it all.
Emil. My husband ?
Oth. Thy husband.
Emil. That she was false to wedlock ?
Oth. Ay, with Cassio.
Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
17 Folly signifies here, as in the sacred writings, wantonness,
nnchastity. See Deuteronomy, xxii. 21. So in the Rape of
Lucrece : —
' Her sad behaviour feeds his vulture folly.'
18 i. e. as unstable, as deceitful. In Genesis, xlix. Jacob
applies a similar term to Reuben : — ' Thou wast light as water.'
504 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite 19,
I'd not have sold her for it.
Emil. My husband ?
Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first co ;
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
Emit. My husband ?
Oth. What needs this iterance21, woman? I say,
thy husband.
Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with
love22! —
My husband say, that she was false?
Oth. He, woman.
I say, thy husband : Dost understand the word ?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth. Ha!
Emil. Do thy worst :
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.
Oth. Peace, you were best.
Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt23. O gull ! O dolt!
19 Pliny informs us that Ptolemy Philadelphia had a statue
of his wife Arsinoe, made of one topaz, four cubits in length. —
Hist. Nat. b. xxxvii. c. 8. Dr. Clarke, in his Lectures on Mine-
ralogy, says he used topaz and chrysolite as synonymous terms.
Perhaps Shakspeare alludes to this story. — Plumptre.
20 The folio reads— that told me on her first.
21 The quarto reads — iteration. The two next speeches are
omitted in that copy.
22 Villany hath taken advantage to play upon the weakness of
a violent passion.
23 • More can I hear than you dare execute.'
This line, from the Second Part of King Henry VI. is one of
those attributable to Shakspeare, and explains Emilia's senti-
ment. There is a similar idea in King Henry VIII. Act iii.
Sc.2, p. 258.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 505
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed, —
I care not for thy sword ; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives : — Help ! help, ho ! help!
The Moor has kill'd my mistress : Murder ! murder !
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.
Mon. What is the matter ? — How now, general ?
Emil. O, are you come, Iago ? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.
Gra. What is the matter ?
Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou beest a man :
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false :
I know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain ;
Speak, for my heart is full .
Iago. I told him what I thought ; and told no
more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false?
Iago. I did.
Emil. You told a lie ; an odious damned lie ;
Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie : —
She false with Cassio ! — Did you say with Cassio ?
Iago. With Cassio, mistress; Go to, charm your
tongue 24.
Emil. I will not charm my tongue ; I am bound
to speak ;
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed25.
24 See vol. vi. p. 313, note 10. To charm is to conjure, to en-
chant, to lay or still as with a charm. So in King Henry V. : —
1 Charming the narrow seas
To give you gentle pass.'
Pliny informs us that favete Unguis was the constant exclamation
hefore anv charm was applied. From this circumstance the
phrase to charm a tongue, may have originated. So in The
Tempest : —
■ Hush, be mute.
Or else our spell is marr'd.'
25 This line, and the six following speeches, are wanting in
the first quarto.
oOG OTHELLO, ACT V.
All. O heavens forefend !
Emit. And your reports have set the murder on.
Oth. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a strange truth.
Mon. O monstrous act!
Emit. Villany, villany, villany ! —
I think upon't, — I think, — I smell't ; — O villany !
I thought so then26; — I'll kill myself for grief. —
0 villany, villany !
Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you
home.
E?nil.Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak ;
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now : —
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth. O ! O ! O ! [Hanging over his wife.
Emit. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.
Oth. O, she was foul ! — [Rising.
1 scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly
stopp'd :
I know, this act shows horrible and grim.
Gra. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy father's
dead;
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain : did he live now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side27,
A nd fall to reprobation 28.
* That is, at the instant when she gave Desdemona's handker-
chief to Iago : for even then Emilia appears to have suspected it
was sought after for no honest purpose, and therefore asks her
husband — ' What will you do with it?' cVc. See Act iii. Sc.2.
27 So in Shakspeare's 144th Sonnet: —
• My female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side.'
28 The first and the second folio both read — reprobance.
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 507
Oth. Tis pitiful : but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed C9 ; Cassio confess'd it :
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her ; I saw it in his hand;
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother 30.
Emil. O heaven ! O heavenly powers !
Iago. Come, hold your peace.
Emil. Twill out, 'twill out ; — I hold my peace,
sir? no;
29 Dr. Johnson thinks that this and other passages in the pla^
seem to suppose a longer space comprised in the action of this
play than the scene includes. Mr. Toilet has adduced several
instances in support of this opinion, as that in Act iii. Sc.3 : —
' I slept the next night well, was free and merry,
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.'
' On Othello's wedding night, he and Cassio embarked from
Venice, where Desdemona was left under the care of Iago.
They all met at Cyprus ; and since their arrival there, the scenes
include only one night, the night of the celebration of their
nuptials. — What night was there to intervene between Cassio's
kisses and Othello's sleeping the next night well ? Iago has said,
" I lay with Cassio lately," which he could not well have done,
unless they had been longer at Cyprus than is represented in the
play ; nor could Cassio have kept away for the space of a whole
week from Bianca.' Steevens obviates one objection, by sup-
posing that what Othello mentions might have passed before he
was married to Desdemona, when Cassio went between them,
and that a thousand times is only an aggravated term for manv
times. The difficulties started by Mr. Toilet he is unable to
explain.
30 Othello tells his wife, Act iii. Sc. 4 : —
1 That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give.'
This passage, therefore, has been censured as an oversight in the
poet; but perhaps it exhibits only a fresh proof of his art. The
first account of the handkerchief, as given by Othello, was pur-
posely ostentatious, in order to alarm his wife the more. When
he mentions it a second time, the truth was sufficient for his pur-
pose.— Steevens.
508 OTHELLO, ACT V.
No, I will speak as liberal31 as the air;
Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
Iago. Be wise, and get you home.
Emil. I will not.
[Iago offers to stab Ms Wife.
Gra. Fye!
Your sword upon a woman ?
Emil. O thou dull Moor ! that handkerchief thou
speak'st of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband ;
For often, with a solemn earnestness
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle),
He begg'd of me to steal it.
Iago. Villanous whore !
Emil. She give it Cassio ! no, alas ; I found it,
And I did give't my husband.
Iago. Filth, thou liest.
Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen :
O murd'rous coxcomb ! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife ?
[Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out.
Oth. Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder 32 ? — Precious villain 1
Gra. The woman falls ; sure, he has kill'd his wife,
Emil. Ay, ay ; O, lay me by my mistress' side !
Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this
weapon,
31 The folio reads—
' I'll be in speaking liberal as the north.''
The quarto 1622 — ' liberal as the air.' The text is formed oui
of the two copies. Liberal here means free. So in Jeronimo
i. e. the first part of The Spanish Tragedy, 1605 :—
' Now let jour bloods be liberal as the sea.'
32 The meaning appears to be : — ' Has not heaven one super
numerary bolt, to hurl directly at the head of this atrociou-
villain?'
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 509
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor :
Come, guard the door without: let him not pass,
But kill him rather ; I'll after that same villain,
For 'tis a damned slave.
[Exeunt Mo NT an o and Gratiano.
Oth. I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword : —
But why should honour outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.
Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan,
And die in musick 33 ; — Willow, willow, willow. —
Moor, she was chaste ; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor ;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ;
So speaking as I think, I die, — I die. [Dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper34;
O, here it is : — Uncle, I must come forth.
Gra. [Within.'] If thou attempt it, it will cost
thee dear;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
Re-enter Gratiano.
Gra. What is the matter ?
Oth. Behold ! I have a weapon ;
33 So in The Merchant of. Venice : —
' he makes a swanlike end,
Fading in musick.'
34 The particular name of the ice-brook may be determined
from several passages in Martial. (See lib. i. ep. 50, lib. iv.
ep. 55.) It was undoubtedly the brook or rivulet called Salo
(now Xalon) near Bilbilis in Celtiberia. In this the Spaniards
plunged all their swords and other weapons while hot from the
forge ; and to the icy quality of the waters they were supposed
to be indebted for their stubborn temper. See also Justin, i. 44.
It should be remembered that Spain was famous for producing
the best sword blades.
VOL. X. Y Y
510 OTHELLO, ACT V.
A better never did itself sustain -
Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop 35 : — But, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. —
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very seamark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear ;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires ; — Where should Othello go ? —
Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench 36 !
Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity. —
O cursed, cursed slave ! — Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight !
Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur !
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire !—
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
Dead? O! O! O!
Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio, carried in
a Chair, and Officers, with Iago, prisoner.
Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man ?
Oth. That's he, that was Othello ; here I am.
Lod. Where is that viper ? bring the villain forth.
35 Thus in Coriolanus, Sc. 1 : —
' Cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder, than can ever
Appear in your impediment.'
36 This and the six preceding lines are omitted in the first
quarto. Wench originally signified only a girl or young woman.
It is so used in our old version of the Scriptures, and by many
of our early writers.
SC. IT. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 511
Oth. I look down towards his feet37 — but that's
a fable ;
If fhat thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
[Othello wounds Iago.
Lod. Wrench his sword from him.
Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.
Oth. I am not sorry neither ; I'd have thee live ;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die38.
Lod. O thou Othello, that was once so good,
Fall'n in the practice 39 of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee ?
Oth. Why, any thing :
An honourable murderer, if you will;
For nought I did in hate, but ail in honour.
Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany :
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death ?
Oth. Ay.
Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray you, demand that demi-devil,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body i
Iago. Demand me nothing : What you know, you
know :
From this time forth I never will speak word.
Lod. What ? not to pray ?
Gra. Torments will ope your lips.
Oth. Well, thou dost best.
Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not: Here is a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ;
And here, another : the one of them imports
37 To see if, according to the common opinion, his feet be
cloven.
38 The same thought occurs in Antony and Cleopatra : —
' 'Tis well thou'rt gone,
If it be well to live.'
39 In the snare, by the stratagem.
512 OTHELLO, ACT V.
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.
Oth. O villain !
Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross !
Lod. Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too : and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain ;
But that, belike, Iago, in the interim40,
Came in and satisfied him.
Oth. O the pernicious caitiff? —
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's ?
Cas. I found it in my chamber
And he himself confess'd, but even now,
That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.
Oth. Ofool! fool! fool!
Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter, —
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came
That I was cast; And even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead, — Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.
Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, —
If there be any cunning cruelty,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his : You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state : — Come, bring him away.
Oth. Soft you ; a word or two, before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know it
No more of that; — I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
40 The first quart* reads — ' in the nick.y
SC. II. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 513
Speak of me as T am41 ; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Judean 4~, threw a pearl away,
41 Thus the folio. The quarto reads — ' Speak of them, as
they are.'
42 The quarto 1C22 reads — Indian. The folio has Judean.
Warburton, Theobald, and Dr. Farmer think that the allusion is
to Herod, who in a fit of blind jealousy threw away such a. jewel
in his wife Mariamne. Steevens admits the reading Judean, but
thinks the allusion is not to the story of Herod, on account of the
epithet base; and because ' the simile appears almost too appo-
site to be used on the occasion, and would be little more than
bringing the fact into comparison with itself.' He thinks that the
allusion is to the story of a Jew who not being able to find a pur-
chaser for a very large pearl at an immoderate price, publicly
threw it into the sea at Venice. Malone once objected to Judean
on account of the wrong accent, but subsequently changed his
opinion, and thought the word tribe strongly favoured that read-
ing. To this Mr. Boswell replies, that the word tribe was never
alone peculiarly applicable to the Jews, but meant a kindred, and
is constantly used at this day in speaking of a peculiar race or
set of Indians. That the early travellers are full of descriptions
of ' the pearled treasures' of the Indians, who may be called
base on account of their ignorance, and the facility with which
they would part with them, a circumstance to which two suc-
ceeding poets have alluded: —
' So the unskilfull Indian those bright gems
Which might adde majestie to diadems,
Mong the wave scatters.'
Habington — To Castara weeping.
Thus also in The Woman's Conquest, by Sir Robert Howard: — ■
' Behold my queen — .
Who with no more concern I'll cast away
Than Indians do a pearl, that ne'er did inoiv
Its value.'
Shakspeare himself connects India with pearls in Troilus and
Cressida : —
' Her bed is India, where she lies a pearl.'
It is here figuratively used for a fair woman. I conclude with
Mr. Boswell, that the arguments are strong in favour of Indian,
the reading of the earliest copy.
Y Y 2
514 OTHELLO, ACT V.
Richer than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdu'd eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum : Set you down this :
And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk43
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him — thus. [Stabs himself.
Lod. O bloody period !
Gra. All, that's spoke, is marr'd.
Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee; — No way but
this, [Falling upon Desdemona.
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies.
Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no
weapon ;
For he was great of heart.
Lod. O Spartan dog44,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea !
Look on the tragick loading of this bed ;
[7oIago.
This is thy work: the object poisons sight; —
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed to you. — To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure45 of this hellish villain ;
The time, the place, the torture, — 0 enforce it !
Myself will straight aboard ; and, to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt.
43 It is said that it was immediate death for a Christian to
strike a Turk in Aleppo.
44 The dogs of Spartan race were reckoned among those of the
most fierce and savage kind.
45 i. e. judgment, the sentence.
THE MOOR OF VENICE. 51«>
The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon
the attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from
critical illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnani-
mous, artless, and credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent
in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his
revenge ; the cool malignity of Iago, silent in his resentment,
subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest and his
vengeance; the soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit,
and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit,
and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are such
proofs of Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it
is vain to seek in any modern writer. The gradual progress
which Iago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circum-
stances which he employs to enflame him, are so artfully natural,
that though it will perhaps not be said of him as he says of him-
self, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but pity him,
when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme.
There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abili-
ties, should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation ;
but the character of Iago is so conducted, that he is from the first
scene to the last hated and despised.
Even the inferior characters of this play would be very con-
spicuous in any other piece, not only for their justness, but their
strength. Cassio is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined only
by his want of stubbornness to resist an insidious invitation.
Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and impatient submission to the
cheats which he sees practised upon him, and which by persua-
sion he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture of a weak
mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend ; and the
virtue of Emilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but not
cast off, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed
at atrocious villanies.
The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy, varied by
happy interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of
the story ; and the narrative in the end, though it tells but
what is known already, yet is necessary to produce the death of
Othello.
Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents
been occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a
drama of the most exact and scrupulous regularity.
Johnson.
To Dr. Johnson's admirable and nicely discriminative character
of Othello, it may seem unnecessary to make any addition; yet
I cannot forbear to conclude our commentaries on this transcend-
ent poet, with the fine eulogy which the judicious and learned
516 OTHELLO,
Lowth has pronounced on him, with a particular reference to
this tragedy, perhaps the most perfect of his works : —
In his viris [tragedian Graecae scilicet scriptoribus] accessio
quaedam Philosophise erat Poetica facultas: neque sane quis-
quam adhuc Poesin ad fastigiura suum ac culraen evexit, nisi qui
prius in iutima Philosophia artis suae fundamenta jecerit.
Quod si quis objiciat, nonnullos in hoc poeseos genere excel-
luisse, qui nunquam habiti sunt Philosophi, ac ne literis qui-
dem praeter caeteros imbuti ; sciat is, me rem ipsam quaerere,
non de vulgari opinione, aut de verbo laborare : qui autem tan-
tum ingenio consecutus est, ut naturas hominum, vimque omnem hu-
manitatis, causasque eas, quibus aut incitatur mentis impetus aut
retunditur, penitus perspectas habeat, ejusque omnes motus orutione
non modo explicet, sed effing at planeque oculis subjiciat ; sedexcitel,
regat, commoveat, moderetur; eum, etsi disciplinarum instrumento
munus adjutum eximie tamen esse PhUosophum arbitrari. Quo in
genere affectum zelotypiae, ejusque causas, adjuncta, progres-
siones, effectus, in una Shakspeari nostri fabula, copiosus, sub-
tilius, accuratius etiam veriusque pertractari existimo, quam ab
omnibus omnium Philosophorum scholis in simili argumento,
est unquam disputatum. [Praelectio prima, edit. 1763, p. 8.] —
Malone.
If by ' the most perfect' is meant the most regular of the fore-
going plays, I subscribe to Mr. Malone's opinion; but if his
words were designed to convey a more exalted praise, without a
moment's hesitation I should transfer it to Macbeth.
It is true that the domestic tragedy of Othello affords room
for a various and forcible display of character. The less familiar
groundwork of Macbeth (as Dr. Johnson has observed) excludes
the influence of peculiar dispositions. That exclusion, however,
is recompensed by a loftier strain of poetry, and bj> events of
higher rank ; by supernatural agency, by the solemnities of
incantation, by shades of guilt and horror deepening in their
progress, and by visions of futurity selected in aid of hope,
but eventually the ministers of despair.
Were it necessary to weigh the pathetick effusions of these
dramas against each other, it is generally allowed that the
sorrows of Desdemona would be more than counterbalanced by
those of Macduff. Yet if our author's rival pieces (the distinct
property of their subjects considered) are written with equal
force, it must still be admitted that the latter has more of origi-
nality. A novel of considerable length (perhaps amplified and
embellished by the English translator of it) supplied a regular
and circumstantial outline for Othello; while a few slight hints
collected from separate narratives of Holinshed, were expanded
into the sublime and awful tragedy of Macbeth.
Should readers, who arealike conversant with the appropriate
THE MOOR OF VENICE. 517
excellences of poetry and painting, pronounce on the reciprocal
merits of these great prodnctions, I must suppose that they would
describe them as of different pedigrees. They would add, that
one was of the school of Raphael, the other from that of Michael
Angelo ; and that if the steady Sophocles and Virgil should
have decided in favour of Othello, the remonstrances of the
daring iEschylus and Homer would have claimed the laurel for
Macbeth.
To the sentiments of Dr. Lowth respecting the tragedy of
Othello, a general eulogium on the dramatick works of Shak-
speare, imputed by a judicious and amiable critic to Milton, may
not improperly be subjoined : —
There is good reason to suppose (says my late friend the Rev.
Thomas Warton) that Milton threw many additions and correc-
tions into the Theatrum Poetarum, a book published by his
nephew Edward Philips in 1675. It contains criticisms far
above the taste of that period. Among these is the following
judgment on Shakspeare, which was not then I believe the
general opinion : — * In tragedy, never any expressed a more
lofty and tragick height, never any represented nature more
purely to the life ; and where the polishments of art are most
wanting, as probably his learning was not extraordinary, he
pleases with a certain wild and native elegance.' — Milton's Minor
Poems, p. 194, Note on rAllegro.
What greater praise can any poet have received, than that of
the author of Paradise Lost ? Steevens.
THE END.
C. and C. Wliittinghaiu, College House, Chiswick.
CLOWN, WITH P.PE AND TABOR.
See vol. i. p. 345.
(0
PR Shakespeare, William
2753 Dramatic works
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